


Girl in the War

by astridfire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Drama, F/M, Genderswap, Humor, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance, girl!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 159,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridfire/pseuds/astridfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says you can't fight evil and be pretty?  A Girl!Harry AU, starting with Rose Potter's first year at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> -This was an experiment that turned epic. I wondered what would have happened in Harry Potter if there had been a girl playing Harry's part, and I decided that it wouldn't be very different, but THEN I wondered, but what if she was really, really girly? And then my brain ran away with it, and the fun just won't quit.
> 
> \- You've heard this story before, so I skip over the parts you know and write the parts that are new. It's better this way. As I go on the story diverges more and more from the original, so the chapters get longer and longer…
> 
> \- Sometimes I use direct quotes from the books.
> 
> \- I know the UK doesn't do child beauty pageants like we do over here in the good old USA, but Petunia Dursley? She's the ultimate pageant mom. So suspend your disbelief, and just go with it.
> 
>   
> [ ](http://hotwaterandmilk.livejournal.com/1258.html)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Awesome banner by [Asher, aka hotwaterandmilk](http://hotwaterandmilk.livejournal.com).

:: :: :: :: 

Rose Potter didn’t know what to think of Hagrid.  On the one hand, he was quite large and intimidating.  On the other hand, he had scared Uncle Vernon to insensibility, and he had brought Rose a birthday cake.  A chocolate cake at that.  Rose hadn’t had any kind of cake or any kind of chocolate for a very long time. Aunt Petunia said it would wreck her figure.

Hagrid said that he worked at the school, the one that had been sending her _tons_ of letters her aunt and uncle wouldn’t let her read.

“Yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course,” Hagrid said.

“Um, no?” Rose said.

Hagrid began to shout at her aunt and uncle, and then said, “Did you never wonder where your parents learned it all?”

“Learned what?” Rose asked.

“LEARNED WHAT?” Hagrid shouted.

Hagrid shouted some more, “Do you mean ter tell me that this girl - this girl - knows nothin’ abou’ — abou’ ANYTHING?”

Rose found this offensive, as she wasn’t stupid. “I know things, I go to _school_.”

“About _our_ world, I mean,” he explained.  “ _Your_ world.  _My_ world.  _Yer parents’ world_.”

“What world?” Rose asked, and eyed the lush chocolate icing on her birthday cake.  Would it be rude to swipe her finger through it?  She was startled out of this line of thought by Hagrid roaring at her aunt and uncle for keeping things from her.

“But yeh must know about yer mum and dad,” he insisted to Rose.  “I mean, they’re _famous_.  You’re _famous_.”

Rose could sort of understand this, though calling it _famous_ seemed an exaggeration, but she couldn’t fathom how a man like Hagrid would be interested in such a thing.  “Famous? You mean for being Little Miss Cadbury?”

Hagrid looked confused.  “Lil’ Miss…”

“Cadbury,” Rose finished.  “I won the crown in June.  Aunt Petunia thinks my performance of Kylie Minogue’s Tears On My Pillow locked me in for the win. They’re using my face as part of their current marketing campaign.” Rose’s beaming, tiara-topped face could currently be seen in stores across the country, decorating limited edition chocolate bars.

Hagrid didn’t seem to understand what she was saying at all.  Rose looked to her aunt for help explaining.  Some people just didn’t understand child beauty pageants, and her aunt was always very good at explaining why Rose wanted to be in one.  But Aunt Petunia just looked scared, and didn’t seem to be inclined to chime in anytime soon.

Rose frowned, remembering what else Hagrid had said.  “Why were my parents famous?”

“Yeh don’t know… yeh don’t know…” Hagrid looked distressed. “Yeh don’t know what you _are_?”

“Now see here, sir!” Uncle Vernon had finally found his voice. “I forbid you to tell the girl anything!”

Hagrid looked furious.  “You never told her?” he growled.  “Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left for her?  I was there!  I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley!  An’ you’ve kept it from her all these years?”

Hagrid was yelling at her uncle, but Uncle Vernon didn’t have much to do with Rose.  It was no secret that he didn’t much like his niece.  Aunt Petunia was the only one who seemed to care at all for her.

“Kept what from me?” Rose asked her aunt.

Aunt Petunia looked at her helplessly, more scared than Rose had ever seen her.  Uncle Vernon yelled at Hagrid to stop talking.

“Rose,” Hagrid said, “yer a witch.”

There was dead silence in the little hut.  Only the rush of the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Rose said, and decided that if Hagrid was going to be rude then she was too.  Rose swiped her finger through the icing and popped it in her mouth.  _Mmmm… chocolate._

:: :: :: :: 

It took a while for Hagrid to explain. And while what he had to say was wonderful and horrible, and Rose was thrilled at the idea of magic and Hogwarts, she was also hurt.  Aunt Petunia had proclaimed that now Rose was going the same way as her mother Petunia wanted nothing more to do with her.

Aunt Petunia had always remarked on how Rose had her mother’s pretty eyes and bone structure, and Rose thought her aunt looked rather wistful at moments when she thought Rose wasn't looking.  But now even that small amount of affection was gone.  This magical world that Rose was now bound to enter had taken Lily away from Aunt Petunia and had led to her death, and Aunt Petunia saw it as the worst sort of betrayal that Rose wanted to join the world that had killed her sister.

But Rose wouldn’t give this up to appease her aunt. It was a chance to know more about her parents, and it was a relief to finally have an explanation for the many odd things that had happened to Rose growing up. Like when Piers Polkiss had tried to catch her to steal a kiss, and Rose had suddenly found herself on the roof of the school. Or when her teacher’s hair had turned blue after giving Rose a scolding. Or when Dudley had popped the heads off of all her Barbie dolls, and later she found them fit back together with their hair carefully brushed.

Magic explained so much. But the revelation about Voldemort she didn’t want to dwell on at all.  It was just too fantastical to grasp, and too horrible to contemplate. To go from believing her parents had died in an accident to knowing that they’d been _murdered_ …

Rose shook off these unpleasant thoughts and let herself be charmed by Diagon Alley, a hidden street filled with wizarding shops, where Hagrid had taken her to purchase her school supplies.

The crowd of people wanting to shake her hand was strange, but Rose put on her best beauty pageant contestant smile and greeted them politely.  Rose knew she’d done well because she heard the women gushing about how, ‘absolutely charming,’ little Rose Potter was.  ‘Just like her father,’ they said, which wasn’t something Rose had ever heard before.

After the trip to Gringotts, where Rose learned she’d never have to win another beauty pageant to pay for anything, and Hagrid picked up a small, mysterious package for the headmaster, Hagrid left her to purchase her robes on her own.

Madam Malkin greeted her warmly, and led Rose to the back of the shop where a boy who looked to be the same age as Rose was standing on a footstool, while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

Rose was led up to the stool beside the boy, and Madam Malkin dropped a long black robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.  Rose decided immediately that she didn’t like robes at all.

“Madam Malkin,” Rose said hesitantly.  “Could you maybe make these… a bit more form fitting?  They seem quite loose.”

Madam Malkin frowned at her.  “They’re just school robes, dearie.”

“But they’re quite…”  _Unattractive_ , Rose thought.  Madam Malkin seemed to hear the unspoken word regardless, and huffed.  But still, she began to pin the robes in around Rose’s waist and added a small pin tuck about her chest.

Rose looked up and caught the boy staring unabashedly at her in the mirror.  Perhaps another girl, one who wasn’t quite so used to being fussed over and having make up and lotions and glitter smeared over every inch of exposed skin while in the company of tens of other people, would have been embarrassed.  Rose eyed the boy back.

He jumped, nearly upsetting his footstool when he realized he’d been caught. Rose bit back a laugh.  The boy cleared his throat, and said quite coolly, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Rose, giving him a smile.

“My father’s next door buying my books and my mother’s up the street looking at wands,” he said.  He had a bored, drawling voice that Rose had heard on quite a few of her fellow beauty pageant contestants; the ones who thought they were better than everyone else.  Rose could do that voice too. She knew how fake it was.  “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms.”

“Racing brooms?” Rose asked, interested.  Aunt Petunia didn’t think girls should participate in sports.  Rose had always been jealous of the girls who played football.  They wore knee socks and got fabulously filthy.  Was there a wizarding sport she could learn to play now that her aunt wasn’t able to stop her?

The boy nodded.  “Do you play Quidditch at all?”

“Do you?” Rose hedged, wondering what the heck Quidditch was, and if she’d be able to play.  What if they didn’t have girls’ teams in the wizarding world?

“Yes,” he said.  “Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree.  Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“No, I’m not sure.”  Rose had no idea what he was talking about.  She also knew that she mustn’t let on in front of this boy.  She had learned very quickly on the beauty pageant circuit that the key to success was to fake it till you made it.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Rose joined in on the boy’s snide laughter.  She hoped she wouldn’t regret it, but Hufflepuff did sound rather like something she wouldn’t want to be connected with. Sort of squishy and sweet.

“I say, look at that man!” the boy said suddenly, nodding towards the front window.  Hagrid was standing there holding two large ice cream cones.

_Ice cream!_ Rose was liking Hagrid more and more.

“That’s Hagrid,” she said, grateful to finally be able to tell the boy something he didn’t know.  “He works at Hogwarts.  He bought me a birthday cake yesterday,” she added, letting the boy know where she stood on the Hagrid issue.  “Chocolate,” she smiled.

The boy looked very much like he wanted to say something mean about Hagrid, but didn’t.  Clearly he knew the rules of popularity as well as Rose, which she noted, relived, must be the same in the wizarding world as in the Muggle one.

“Oh, I’ve heard of him,” the boy said instead.  “Why is he with you?  Where are your parents?”

“They died when I was a baby, and my aunt and uncle wouldn’t take me to get my school things, so Hagrid is taking me shopping.”

The boy frowned.  “Why wouldn't your aunt and uncle take you?”

“They’re not magical,” she explained. “They wouldn’t… like it here.”

“Oh,” he said, as he suddenly went cold, and Rose wondered wildly where she’d gone wrong.  What had she let slip that made the boy shut down on her?

“Were your parents magical?” he asked, not looking at her, but straightening his collar in the mirror.

“Yes,” Rose said slowly, and watched the tense set of his shoulders drop.  

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asked.

“Rose,” she said, and grinned at him. “What’s yours?”

He smiled back, like he was helpless not to - Rose’s smile had that effect on people, she’d noticed. He shook his head, “No, I mean, what’s your surname?”

“That’s you done, dearie,” said Madam Malkin to Rose, whipping the robe off over Rose’s head.

“Oh, thank you,” said Rose, and she hopped off the stool, and followed Madam Malkin to the till to pay for her purchases.

“I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” the boy called across the shop.

Rose nodded and smiled back at him, before pushing open the door to meet Hagrid outside the shop to rescue her dripping chocolate ice cream cone. 

:: :: :: :: 

Hagrid had forgotten to tell her how to get on the train platform.  Rose plopped down on her trunk, and stuck her fingers through the bars of Hedwig’s cage to stroke her feathers.  She knew the train to school was around here somewhere, but it wasn’t marked.

But then, like a little miracle, a large family trooped past in all their flame headed glory (Rose eyed the youngest girl’s ruby red hair jealously) chatting about Hogwarts and how to get on the platform, and Rose neatly followed them in.

Rose struggled through the crowd with her trunk and Hedwig, wondering at the wizarding world’s impractical luggage choice.  Would it be such a trial to use suitcases with rolling wheels?  She stepped onto the train and gave a tremendous yank on the handle of her trunk, but couldn’t quite lift it.

“Want a hand?” offered one of the redheaded twins she’d followed through the barrier, as he grinned at her struggles.

“Yes, please,” she said gratefully.

He called his twin brother over, and they hauled Rose’s trunk into the train compartment.

“Thank you,” Rose said, flicking her hair away from her sweaty forehead.

Of course, the twins noticed her wretched scar.  Aunt Petunia despaired of it, even though a little pancake covered it neatly, and Rose loathed the thing even more now than she had before she knew what it meant.

“Blimey,” one of them said, “Are you—“

Rose pasted on a bright smile.  “Rose Potter.  It’s nice to meet you.”  She held out her hand, and when the twins just gaped at her, pulled her hand back awkwardly.

The boys were shaken from their gaping by their mother calling them.  Rose sat down in the corner of the compartment, and watched the red headed family’s jibing, and felt jealous again.  She wondered what it would be like to be part of a family like that.

Aunt Petunia hadn’t even said goodbye to her.

Rose shook the thought away when the twins said her name in unison.  The youngest girl with the covetous locks wanted to meet Rose.  While her mother was telling her daughter that Rose wasn’t a zoo exhibit (though Rose was quite used to people staring at her), Rose rather wanted to meet the girl too.  She wanted to know if that hair color was natural, and if not how she could get her own hair to look the same. Rose had always wanted red hair.

The train whistle blew, and the twins’ younger brother stumbled into Rose’s compartment.

“Anyone sitting in here?” he asked Rose.  “Everywhere else is full.”

Rose shook her head, he sat down, and they pretended not to look at each other for a moment.

“You’ve got a big family,” said Rose.

He nodded.  “Too big sometimes.”

The twins blew through the compartment door with a crash.  “Hello again, Rose,” one said.  “Did we introduce ourselves?  Fred and George Weasley.  And this is our brother Ron.  See you later, then!”

Rose and Ron eventually stuck up a stilted conversation, and Rose determined that Ron probably still thought girls had cooties.

Later a round-faced boy came in asking if they’d seen a toad, and quickly on his heels was a girl called Hermione Granger asking the same thing.  Rose thought she could be rather pretty, but her hair was in desperate need of a blow out or a flat iron.

But finally, _finally_ , Rose found a topic that got Ron talking: Quidditch. Rose decided the sport sounded brilliant, and she began to understand just how the game was played.  She was definitely going to give it a go.

The compartment door opened yet again, this time admitting the boy from the robe shop and two hulking boys at his back.

“Is it true?” he said, looking intently at Rose.  “They’re saying all down the train that Rose Potter is in this compartment.  So it’s you, is it?”

“Yes, it’s me,” said Rose.  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you in the robe shop.  What’s your name?”  Rose held out her hand to shake, as it seemed to be the order of the day.

“Malfoy.  Draco Malfoy,” he said, taking her hand and giving a slight bow over it.  Rose just stared.  Who did that anymore?  “And this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle,” he said gesturing carelessly to his entourage.

Ron gave a slight cough, which sounded like it was hiding a snigger.  Draco sent him a sideways glare.  Rose just smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you both.”  They reminded her of Dudley - large, dim, and mean.

“This is Ron Weasley,” said Rose, trying on the same trick she’d used with Draco and Hagrid.  “He was just explaining Quidditch to me.  It sounds like a lot of fun.  You play too, right?”

Draco, however, was not to be deterred this time.  He steamrolled right over Rose’s unspoken request for civility.

“A Weasley?” he sneered at Ron, and turned back to Rose.  “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Rose,” he said.  “You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.  I can help you there.”

Rose looked at Ron, who’d gone red in the face, and while she didn’t have any particular feelings of friendship towards him, he had been kind to her for the past several hours and had patiently explained Quidditch to her.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”

:: :: :: :: 

Rose was sorted into Gryffindor without much fuss. The Sorting Hat had offered her a choice of houses, but Rose turned down Slytherin, mostly because she couldn’t stand the thought of being near Draco Malfoy on a daily basis, no matter how well she looked in their house colors.

She was led up to the dorm room that she would share with Hermione Granger of the bushy brown hair, Lavender Brown of the shiny blonde, and Parvati Patil who had the most perfect straight sheet of black hair Rose had ever envied. Rose’s own black hair was unruly without liberal application of hair products and styling tools.

Rose felt an instant kinship with Lavender Brown when she dumped out a whole box of cosmetics onto her dresser and began organizing the lot into a drawer.

Hermione, Rose saw out of the corner of her eye, rolled her eyes when Rose, Lavender, and eventually Parvati began to chat about makeup.  And she rolled them even harder when Rose took out her Little Miss Cadbury tiara for Lavender and Parvati to try on.

:: :: :: :: 

“Rose Potter,” said Professor Snape silkily.  “Our new— _celebrity_.”

Rose didn’t know what she’d done to make Professor Snape hate her so much, but she knew what she could do to stop it.  No one could deny the power of The Eyes.  They had won over many a teacher, pageant judge, and even her uncle on rare occasion.

Snape glared down at her, and Rose blinked up at him, doing her best impression of a baby deer, knowing her eyes were wide, green, and filled with doe-like innocence. She had spent _hours_ perfecting this look in her bedroom mirror.

His expression hardened, then softened, and he whirled around and proceeded to set the precedent for years to come, of avoiding any and all eye contact with Rose Potter, and generally pretending she did not exist.

:: :: :: :: 

“Malfoy, give it back,” Rose said, and held out her hand for Neville’s Remembrall.

“What do you care about Longbottom’s toy, Potter?” he asked nastily, implying all sorts of things that weren’t remotely true.

“Stop it,” Rose said.

“I don’t think I will.”  Draco hopped onto his broom and swept into the air.  Rose could tell he was good at flying.  He cut through the air in a neat arc, and hovered over the Slytherins.  “I think I’ll leave it up a tree for him to find.”

Rose scowled and hesitated over her broom.  He was goading her on purpose, and she knew it.  The question was whether she was going to give in or not.

Hermione grabbed her arm, “No!  Madam Hooch said not to move.  You’ll get us all in trouble!”

Draco weaved in the air, like a snake swaying before a strike.  “Come on, Potter.  I thought you wanted to play.  Let’s see what you’ve got.”  He tossed the ball easily between his hands.  “Or are you too much of a girl?”

Rose saw red.  She hated, _hated_ , that just because she liked to be pretty and liked make up and clothes and all those girly things, that stupid boys like Malfoy (and stupid girls like Hermione) thought that meant she was some stupid, weak… _girl_.

She tore away from Hermione’s hands, and kicked off on the broom.  She rose into the air, higher and higher, air whipping her hair and robes.  Elation filled every cell of her body.  This was _wonderful_ , it was easy and fast and she loved the rush – like singing in front of a crowd without any of the nerves.  She heard Parvati and Lavender scream below, and Ron give an admiring whistle.

She turned sharply to face Draco, feeling fierce and proud and really, really wanting to _show_ him.

He smirked, but it wasn’t mean anymore. He looked delighted that she was playing with him.

“Give it here,” she repeated.

He smiled, leaning towards her over his broom, and said, “Come and get it.” 

:: :: :: :: 

“You didn’t get thrown out, did you?” Draco asked urgently. Rose was on her way to dinner with the other first year Gryffindor girls.

Hermione gave a disapproving sniff. She didn’t think Rose should be rewarded for breaking the rules. Rose rolled her eyes at Hermione’s back, as the girl swept past them into the Great Hall. Rose waved Lavender and Parvati on in as well.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense!” Draco snapped. “I was already on the ground. No one caught me flying, but _you_ —“

He was going to be _so_ jealous when he found out that Rose had been made the Gryffindor seeker. She was the youngest house player in a century. Draco would be _livid_. Rose grinned.

“Nope,” she said, smirking. “Actually, I should thank you, Malfoy.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a wary scowl.

Rose shook her head, and exaggeratedly pressed her lips together, like she wasn’t going to tell.

“Look, Potter,” Draco said reasonably, “just because we’re in different houses doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”

“I think it’s your snobby attitude that means we can’t be friends,” Rose said.

Draco made a face. 

“We probably shouldn’t be out-and-proud about it though,” Draco said. “It’s clearly unnatural for Slytherins to be friends with Gryffindors, but I think in this case we can make an exception.”

“What are you talking about?” Rose wondered.

“We would need to be sneaky,” Draco mused, as though he hadn’t heard her. “We could meet somewhere, preferably after hours, where no one would see us talking to each other…”

“Are you trying to organize some kind of… midnight rendezvous?” Rose asked with a barely restrained giggle.

Draco snapped his fingers. “That’s a brilliant idea! We can meet in the trophy room at midnight! That room is always unlocked.”

“You’re daft,” Rose said wonderingly.

“I’ll see you there tonight,” he said, and left. “You can tell me what happened then.” Rose laughed aloud. She wasn’t going to meet him _anywhere_ \- let alone after hours and out of bounds— 

“Your catch was brilliant, by the way,” he called back.

Rose stopped laughing, and watched him walk away until he disappeared around a corner.

“Thanks,” she said, though he couldn’t hear her any longer. She frowned. “Hm.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose scolded herself quietly, as she slipped out of her bed at eleven thirty that night. She had dressed for the occasion, all in black, like a cat burglar. She crept out of the dormitory and down the staircase. The common room was empty, and she slipped out the portrait hole without any fuss.

This was breaking the rules in a big way. Flying during class when she’d been told not to was one thing - she blamed her hot temper and Draco Malfoy. Sneaking out of Gryffindor dormitory in the middle of the night to meet a boy showed deliberate intent to break the rules, and Rose thought her punishment would be harsh if she got caught.

Rose paused on the landing and asked herself, “Am I really doing this?” She turned back, but found that the Fat Lady had gone. She must be visiting another portrait in the castle. Rose sighed. “No turning back,” she murmured.

She heard an odd noise, and her heart thudded with fear. Was it Filch and his cat? Had she been caught so soon?

But it wasn’t Filch or Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, sleeping, but he startled and jerked awake as she approached.

“Neville?” she said. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thank Merlin you found me, Rose! I’ve been out here for hours. I forgot the password.”

“It’s ‘pigs-snout’,” Rose said. “But it won’t do you any good. The Fat Lady’s gone wandering. How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute.”

“Good,” she said. “Look, Neville, I’m going to meet someone, so I’ll see you later?”

“Oh,” Neville said. He wrung his hands for a moment and said, “Could I come with you? It’s only— the Bloody Baron has been past twice already, and—“

“I’m going to meet Malfoy,” Rose warned.

“Oh.” Neville looked wary. “Why?”

“He, um, asked me to. I don’t really know why I’m going,” she admitted. “You can come with me if you want to, though.”

Neville looked between Rose and the long dark corridor, where the Bloody Baron would probably come again. He nodded.

Rose grinned at him, and he gave her a tiny smile back.

They crept quickly through the corridors, looking for Filch and Mrs. Norris at every turn. There was no sign of them, and they reached the third floor and the trophy room without seeing anyone.

“Draco?” Rose whispered, as they entered the room.

The crystal trophy cases glimmered in the moonlight, trophies of all shapes and sizes shone silver and gold in the darkness. There was a door at the other end of the room, nearer to the Slytherin common room than the one Rose and Neville had used, and Rose tiptoed towards it.

“Rose?” said Neville, who had stuck close to her, fairly vibrating with nerves. “Do you really think he’s coming?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she said.

“Maybe it was a joke,” Neville said.

It had never even occurred to Rose that Draco might be playing a joke on her. “I don’t think so,” she said.

After a few moments there was movement at the other door. They froze. At the other end of the room, Draco crept in, hair shining brighter in the moonlight than any of the trophies. She could see his scowl from here.

“What did you bring Longbottom for? You’re supposed to come alone,” Draco hissed. “Don’t you know how rendezvous work, Rose?”

“What does it matter if I brought someone along?” Rose asked.

Draco threw up his hands, like it should be obvious. Rose frowned at him. Neville looked between them uncomfortably.

“I thought you just wanted to hear about how I made the Quidditch team,” Rose said.

“You made the _what_?” Draco said dangerously.

Rose grinned. Yep, the look on Draco’s face was just as satisfying as she dreamed it would be.

A noise in the next room made them jump. 

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Neville looked like he was seconds away from fainting, and Draco looked like he hoped Neville would provide enough of a distraction so he could get away clean. Rose grabbed a hold of both of their sleeves and tugged until they both followed her out the door far from Filch’s voice, and they slipped out of the room just as Filch entered it.

“They’re probably hiding,” Filch said.

“Come on,” Rose said. They were creeping down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and started to run. He tripped and crashed into a suit of armor, taking Draco down with him.

The noise was loud enough to wake everyone in the castle.

“Run!” Rose cried, dragging them both to their feet, and they sprinted down the gallery. The others followed Rose, though she had no idea where she was going. They finally came out near their Charms classroom, which she knew was miles away from the trophy room.

“I think we lost him,” Rose said, breathing hard from the run.

Neville was bent double, wheezing.

“This is why you don’t bring Longbottom,” Draco panted. “This _exact_ reason.”

“It’s not his fault,” Rose said. “Don’t be mean.”

Draco grumbled loudly. 

“We have to get back to our dormitories as quickly as we can,” she said.

“I guess there won’t be any more late night rendezvous’s after this,” Draco said, sounding put out.

“Definitely not,” Rose agreed.

Draco huffed, annoyed.

They would have to split up here. The Slytherin common room was in the opposite direction.

“Night then,” Rose told Draco.

“Yeah,” he said.

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. 

“Are you going to kiss?” Neville asked.

Rose squeaked and Draco jerked. “No!” Rose said, and an instant later, Draco said, “I guess not.”

Suddenly, a doorknob rattled, and they all jumped as something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and made a delighted noise.

“Oh, Peeves,” Rose said. “Please don’t. You’ll get us thrown out.”

Peeves cackled.

“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t tell,” Rose pleaded. “Please, Peeves.”

“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Oh, buzz off,” Draco snarled.

It was a mistake.

Peeves grinned right in Draco’s face, and then bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

They ducked under Peeves and ran, until the end of the corridor where they ran into a door, and it was locked.

Rose swore and Neville whimpered. They could hear Filch running towards them.

“Get out of the way,” Draco said. He drew his wand and tapped on the lock. “ _Alohomora_!”

The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through and shut the door quickly behind them. Rose pressed her ear to the door, listening. Filch caught up with Peeves and tried to convince the poltergeist to tell him where they’d gone, but Peeves was more interested in messing with Filch than giving them up.

“I think it’s going to be okay,” Rose said. Neville tugged hard on her sleeve and she turned. “What is it, Neville?”

She turned and saw quite clearly _what_ , and she felt a wave of terror. They weren’t in a room, as she had assumed. They were in a corridor - and it must be the corridor on the third floor that Dumbledore had told them was forbidden at the beginning of the school year. Rose knew why it was forbidden now.

There was a monstrous dog staring at them. The dog towered over them, heads nearly brushing the ceiling, for it had three of them. Three heads with six mad eyes, and three noses, and worst of all, three mouths that were full of large teeth, which the dog was now using to growl and bare its teeth at them.

Rose fumbled blindly for the doorknob, and the three of them nearly climbed over each other in their haste to get to the other side of the door. Rose slammed the door shut behind them, and they all sank to the floor in shock. The corridor was empty - Filch must have given up and gone to look for them elsewhere.

“I’m going to my dormitory now,” said Draco, sounding shrill and dazed. 

Rose nodded at him, waving him away, and dragged a trembling Neville to his feet. They hurried back to the Fat Lady, not much bothering with stealth, just with speed, and arrived at the Fat Lady without incident.

“Where on earth have you two been?” the Fat Lady asked when they arrived.

“You don’t want to know,” Rose said, and gave her the password. She and Neville tumbled through the portrait hole and they collapsed into armchairs.

“Why are they keeping a guard dog like that in a school?” Neville wondered. “Someone could get eaten.”

“A guard dog,” Rose said aloud, wheels turning. Hagrid had said that Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except for maybe Hogwarts. Perhaps the dog was guarding the little package Hagrid had picked up while they were in Diagon Alley.

:: :: :: :: 

“Hermione’s in the lav,” Parvati said.  “She’s not coming down to the feast.”

“Just because of what Ron said about her?” Rose asked.

“I guess,” said Parvati.  “She’s been crying in there all afternoon.”

“But she _does_ have friends! She has us,” Rose said. 

Parvati and Lavender made faces at each other. “She’s kind of stuck up,” Parvati said. Lavender nodded.

Rose frowned at them. “Hermione isn’t stuck up,” she insisted. “I’m going to go talk to her. Save me some chocolate, will you?”

Lavender laughed and pulled Parvati away.  “Come on, Parv, we’ve got chocolate to eat!”

“Witches!” Rose called after them, making them both laugh.

“And don’t you forget it, Rosie Posey!” Lavender called back.

Rose rolled her eyes and headed towards the bathroom where Hermione had hermited herself away.  “I hate when she calls me Rosie Posey,” she muttered.

Rose pushed open the bathroom door, and called Hermione’s name softly.  The other girl didn’t answer, but Rose heard her sniffling in the far stall.

“'Mione?  It’s Rose.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come out of there, and come down to the feast with me.”

“I just want to be alone, Rose.  Thanks anyway.”

Rose leaned against the wall next to the stall door and blew out a long breath. She could faintly hear the sound of shrieks coming from the Great Hall below - something exciting must have happened, and they were missing it, she thought sourly.   

“There’s chocolate down there,” she wheedled.

“I don’t really like sweets,” Hermione said.

Rose thought it was no wonder that Hermione didn’t really get on with anybody.  She was smarter than all of her classmates, didn’t like the same things everyone else did, and really, she was sort of crap at accepting the hand of friendship when it was offered.  Who didn’t like chocolate, for Pete’s sake?

“Hermione,” Rose whined.  “Come out.  You know Ron Weasley is just a stupid boy whose mouth isn’t attached to his brain.”

Hermione gave a little sob.  “But he’s right!  I don’t have any friends!”

“Oi!  What am I then?  We studied together just last night.”

“And then you went off and tried to achieve the perfect liquid line with Lavender.”

True.  “You could have come with me.  I like Lavender and Parvati, but they’re a bit much sometimes.”  So true.  They were just a _smidge_ too bubbly to spend extended amounts of time with.  “And your eyes would really pop with a nice liquid line,” she added.

“You know I’m not into all that girly stuff.”

“Maybe you could give it a try?  It’s kind of fun.  You know, throwing off the shackles of feminism and all that.”

Hermione snorted derisively, but the outrageous statement got her to open the door and glare at Rose.  “I think you’ve got that a bit backwards,” she snapped, and stomped over to the sinks to wash her hands.

Rose grinned, and ambled over to Hermione with her hands clasped behind her back.  “I suppose,” she said airily, “but it got you to come out, didn’t it?”

Hermione scowled at her in the mirror, but couldn’t hold it when she saw Rose’s reflection grinning unrepentantly.  She laughed slightly, and said, “Fine, you win.”

Rose backed towards the door, holding her hands out in invitation.  “Now will you come to the feast with me?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, looking at something behind Rose, and she screamed.  “Rose!  Look out!”

Rose whirled, and the smell hit her before anything else. The monster was _enormous_ , nearly twelve foot tall, and it smelled _horrible_. It had dull, gray skin, and its body was misshapen and lumpy. Rose screamed in fright, and Hermione grabbed her arm and dragged her back. The monster (what _was_ it?!) filled up the doorway, cutting off their escape, and it fixed its beady little eyes on the two girls, who cowered against the far wall. It advanced on them with a menacing, thumping gait, dragging a heavy wooden club behind it.

The girls screamed, and the monster took its gnarled fist, and smashed a sink off the wall. The porcelain smashed on the floor, and the pipe burst, sending out a spray of water. This seemed to please the monster, for it smashed another sink off the wall, and another, drawing ever closer to Rose and Hermione—

They had to move.

Rose gripped Hermione’s hand tightly, and counted, “One, two—“

“Rose—“ Hermione protested.

“Three!”

Rose yanked on Hermione’s hand and dragged her behind, darting around the monster’s back just as it took another swing at the sink. They stepped around bits of cracked porcelain, and ran through the sprays of water, their shoes slipping on the wet floor tiles. They reached the door as its fist smashed down on the last sink, and the monster let out a roar when he saw their escape attempt, rounding on them.

Rose fumbled with the door knob, fingers slipping on the wet metal, and Hermione screamed. The monster had raised its club, and then Hermione shrieked, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

The club wrenched out of the monster’s hand, and it roared a protest, reaching for it, and swiping at the air and missing. But it was enough time for Rose to get a good grip on the door handle. She wrenched the door open, and threw herself and Hermione out into the hallway. Hermione yanked the door shut behind them, and turned the key in the lock.

“That’s not going to hold it for long,” Rose panted, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

“I know—“

On the other side of the door the monster roared, and smashed the door with its fist. A crack showed in the wood. 

“We need a teacher,” Hermione said frantically. “We need a teacher _right now_ —“

“Help!” Rose screamed as loudly as she could. “There’s a monster in the girls’ bathroom!”

“Help!” Hermione added her voice to the din.

The monster didn’t seem to like the noise, as it bellowed at them from behind the door and smashed at it again. The door rattled on its hinges and it looked like it was one blow away from escaping.

Rose and Hermione clutched at each other, and edged away from the bathroom door. Hermione dragged them into a little alcove down the hall, where they could watch the bathroom door, but also hopefully have a place to hide when the monster got free.

They ducked into the alcove, watching the door, watching as the monster raged and pounded the door off its hinges. The heavy wooden door fell onto the stone floor of the hall with a great thwack, and Rose and Hermione clutched each other tightly and huddled back into the alcove, not taking their eyes off the monster, but unwilling to scream and call attention to themselves.

The monster bellowed at the empty hallway, and swung its club at the wall. The stone cracked, and Hermione shuddered beside Rose.

That could have been their heads.

The monster chose to come lumbering towards them, and before Rose had to decide whether they should stay and hide or run, Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrell arrived, and felled the monster with two red spells. 

Rose sagged in relief as the troll went down and stayed down.

Professor Snape looked them over, assessed that they were both unharmed, and went to inspect the monster.

“What on earth are you two girls doing here?” McGonagall demanded of the girls. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?”

“We— we never made it to the feast, Professor,” Rose said.

“She came to get me,” Hermione said. “We were talking for awhile, and—“

“And then the monster trapped us—“

“It’s a troll,” corrected Hermione.

“A troll?” Rose asked. Hermione nodded. “Trolls exist, too?!”

Hermione smiled at her like she was being funny.

Professor McGonagall glared at them, and they both stopped smiling. “I hope you both understand how serious this is,” she said, and then rolled her eyes. “At least you weren’t hurt. Take yourselves to your dormitory immediately.”

“Yes, Professor,” they chorused, and walked quickly away before McGonagall decided to take points from them.

When they were climbing up the staircases, Hermione started to giggle. 

“What are you laughing about?” Rose wanted to know.

“You—you yelled, _‘There’s a_ monster _in the girls’ bathroom,’_ ” she said, giggling. “A _monster_ — like you’re a little kid, and you think there’s a monster under your bed.” 

“It’s not funny,” Rose said, trying to make a serious face, and failing. “It _was_ a monster!”

Hermione laughed.

“Right,” Rose said. “Next you’ll tell me that vampires and werewolves are real too.”

Hermione snorted.

“What?” Rose said.

“They _are_ real!” Hermione said, falling into laughter again.

“No they aren’t,” Rose denied, laughing. “You are such a liar, Hermione.”

“They are!” Hermione insisted. “You are such a Muggle, Rose.”

Rose laughed.

“Thanks for coming after me,” Hermione said, when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

Rose gave her a friendly nudge to her side, and said, “What are friends for?”

:: :: :: :: 

The first year Gryffindor girls agreed: Oliver Wood was the cutest boy in Gryffindor.

“I can hardly get through practice,” Rose exaggerated to the giggles of her dorm mates.  “He yells at me to catch the Snitch, and I just want to swoon!”  She put a hand to her forehead and pretended to faint onto the foot of her bed.

“It looked like you were swooning out there today,” Parvati said, after Rose’s disastrous first ever Quidditch match.  “I can’t believe you fell off your broom.”

“Her broom was being cursed!” Hermione said.  “It wasn’t her fault.”

“Yeah, Parvati, it wasn’t my fault,” Rose teased.  “And anyway, I caught the snitch, didn’t I?”

Her broom had bucked her off, the object of a jinx. Someone was trying to _kill_ her! Rose had been hanging on with one hand by the end, as the Weasley twins circled under her, hoping to catch her if she fell. Rose’s hand had finally slipped, and she had fallen a few heart-stopping feet before Fred and George had swept her awkwardly up between them. She climbed onto the front of George’s broom, and had taken control to neatly swipe the snitch out of the sky, thus winning the game in the most confusing manner possible.

_Epic_ , the twins called it.

“Sure did,” Lavender drawled mockingly.  “Did Ollie give you a _hug_?  Did you _swoon_?”

The girls laughed as Rose feigned outrage.  “I know where you sleep, Brown.”

“Sure, sure,” she said, waving away Rose’s empty threats.  “Come over here and show Hermione how to use the eyelash curler.”

:: :: :: :: 

Christmas at Hogwarts was lonely.  All the girls in Rose’s dorm had gone home for the holiday, and Rose had nothing better to do than follow Hermione’s orders to look up Nicholas Flamel in the library.

Rose looked through a few books, getting nowhere, and decided to throw caution to the wind and ask Madam Pince.  She had the correct book in five minutes, learned about the Philosopher’s Stone in another ten, was thoroughly terrified by the implications by the end of the hour, and decided that she wouldn’t think about it any more until Hermione was back to calm her down.

She left the book on Hermione’s bed, and allowed the Weasley twins to bully her into having a snowball fight with Ron and Percy.

The Weasley boys weren’t bad sorts, she decided when she pelted George in the back of his head and he tackled her into a snow bank in retaliation.  They were just boys and thus couldn’t help their boyishness.

Plus, they were excellent at providing a distraction from the fear of a certain Dark wizard getting ever closer to resurrection.

:: :: :: :: 

“I can’t believe they have us traipsing through the Forbidden Forest,” Draco whined.  “We’re students!  And hello, _forbidden?!_ ”

“Oh, shut up,” Rose said, holding the lantern higher so she could see more of the path.  “It’s your own fault for following me around, and for getting us all caught.  Why won’t you just leave me alone?  You’re always trying to get me in trouble – well, congratulations, Malfoy, I’m in trouble and now everyone hates me for losing all those points!”

“Hagrid had a _dragon_ , Potter!  It’s illegal!”

“Tattletale,” Rose shot back.

“It’s illegal!”

“I repeat—“

“You shouldn’t be hanging around people like him, Rose,” he said.

“He’s my friend!”

“He’s dangerous!”

“He is not!  He just… likes dangerous things.”

“Oh, well,” he said sarcastically, “that makes it safer.”

“Shut up and look out for more of that blood,” Rose grumbled.

They walked quietly for a time, until Rose grabbed Draco’s hand and pointed.  “Look.”

The trail of silvery unicorn blood had thickened, and Draco and Rose’s eyes followed the trail to where the beast had finally fallen.  It was the most beautiful, terrible thing Rose had ever seen.  From where they were standing, Rose and Draco could see the unicorn’s back.  Its white mane spread on the forest floor around it’s head.  Rose thought the slight noise it was still making sounded like a half-hearted whinny.

Draco had gone very still beside her, and Rose tried to suck air into her lungs.  It caught in her throat.

Then she realized it wasn’t the unicorn making the noise at all.

A figure cloaked in black, dripping with the silver blood of the dead unicorn, rose up from the other side of the beast.  Rose hated to think of what it had been doing there.  It drifted towards them, and she felt as though she was frozen to the ground.

Draco screamed, and so did Rose – not out of fright, though there was a lot of that, but out of _pain_.  It ripped through her skull, and felt like it was trying to split her forehead apart.  She dropped the lantern, and clutched her head.

Draco began to run, dragging Rose along, and when she couldn’t – she couldn’t tell up from down let alone where to avoid tree roots and rocks on the forest floor, not through this haze of pain – he wrapped both arms around her waist and made her run along with him.  She wished Draco would stop screaming.

Oh, wait, that was her.

“Quit screaming!” he shouted at her.  “Quit screaming and run, you daft girl!”

Rose ran.  The pain had lessened anyway since they’d started running away from the _thing_.

“What _was_ that?” she gasped, panting as Draco pulled her along – and oh, she hoped he was leading them _out_ of the forest and not deeper into it.  He was right; this was a stupid, dangerous detention to give to students.

“I don’t know,” he snapped.  “Can’t you go faster?”

They gave up talking and ran – following Fang right out of the forest and up to Hagrid’s hut.  Fang scrabbled at the door while they bent over trying to get back their breath.

“We were supposed to send up sparks,” Rose said, remembering.

“When were we supposed to do that?” Draco said.  “That _thing_ was drinking blood from a unicorn.  I wasn’t going to stick around until Hagrid showed up.”

Just then, Hagrid did show up – Hermione and Neville close behind.  “I heard yeh screaming, are yeh all right, Rose?”

“I’m fine, Hagrid.”

“I’m fine, too,” Draco said sarcastically.

“The unicorn is dead, Hagrid, and there was something, someone maybe—“ Rose didn’t know what to call it, and looked to Draco.

“That _thing_ was drinking the unicorn’s blood.”  Draco looked like he wanted to be sick.  “I can’t believe it.”

Hagrid, Hermione and Neville looked completely horrified by what Draco said, but Rose didn’t understand why.  They hadn’t seen it.  “Is that,” she faltered, “I mean, I know it’s bad, I saw it and it was awful, but does it mean something?”

“I forget sometimes that you weren’t raised magical,” Draco said to himself.  “It’s the worst sort of crime to kill a unicorn, and to drink its blood is…  It would bring a person back from the brink of death, but the life they’d have would be—“

“A cursed life,” Hermione whispered.  “Only someone desperate would—“

The girls exchanged a look, and both knew with certainty who Rose had seen in the forest.

:: :: :: :: 

Somehow Rose made it through the end of year exams, though just how she had done so was a mystery, as she had spent every moment fearing that Voldemort would come bursting through the door.

Rose realized too late that it was suspicious how Hagrid had gotten his hands on a dragon’s egg when they were so rare, and after she and Hermione learned that Hagrid had told the stranger how to get past Fluffy, they immediately went to Dumbledore to tell him that the Philosopher’s Stone was in danger. But Dumbledore had been called away to London unexpectedly, which Rose thought was awfully suspicious timing, and Professor McGonagall wouldn’t listen when Rose brought her concerns to her.

The two girls decided that they were going to have to do something to stop Snape from getting the Stone for Voldemort. 

That night they waited for the common room to empty, and when they were the last up, Rose brought out her invisibility cloak. Unfortunately, they were not as alone in the common room as they had thought.

:: :: :: ::

“Do either of you play chess?” Rose asked.

Hermione and Neville shook their heads as the three looked across the wide and intimidating expanse of the giant chess set. 

“What am I doing here?” Neville moaned.

“You wouldn’t let us leave, so we made you come with us,” Rose retorted.  “Hold on a sec.”

She went back into the flying key room and grabbed three brooms.  “We’ll fly over.”

If it was possible, Hermione and Neville seemed even less thrilled with this plan.

“It will be fine,” said Rose, thrusting the broomsticks into their hands.  She channeled a bit of Oliver Wood and barked, “You can do it!  Come on!”

It was touch and go, Neville nearly fell when they were halfway across the chessboard, but Rose shot out a hand to steady him.

When they landed safely on the other side, both Neville and Hermione were beaming.

“I did it!” said Neville.

“Thank God that’s over,” said Hermione.

Rose opened the door to the next challenge, and got a great big whiff of mountain troll.  She wrinkled her nose.  “Not quite.”

:: :: :: ::

Professor Quirrell had been hiding an extremely unnatural growth under his turban: he had a face in the back of his head. Voldemort’s face. It looked as disgusting as it sounds.

Rose stood before the Mirror of Erised with the Philosopher’s Stone secreted away in her pocket, and stared at the talking face on the back of Quirrell’s head. Voldemort’s face. Rose didn’t have words for how disgusting it was…

“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor… I have only form when I can share another’s body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds—“

“I take it you didn’t warn them beforehand about the… hair style change,” Rose said weakly.

The face narrowed his red eyes at her.

“Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixer of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket.”

Rose made a distressed noise, and stumbled backwards.

“Don’t be foolish,” snarled the face. “Better to save your own life and join me… or you’ll meet the same end as your parents…”

“Join you?” Rose asked, incredulous. “You murdered my family, and you are currently a _face_ in the back of my Defense teacher’s head, and you think I’m going to join you?”

He was also just a face on the head of a man who had his _back_ to her right now. 

Rose darted forward and kicked Quirrell hard in the back of his knee. He grunted with pain and went down hard, and right on his face. Letting Voldemort use his head must have dulled his reactionary responses, because he knocked his head on the stone floor, and grunted in pain, dazed.

Rose wasted no time, and hurried behind the Mirror of Erised. She put her back to the back of the mirror, intent on tipping the mirror over. She had to dig her heels into the floor, and push her shoulders as hard as she could against it, yelling with the strain, but it finally unbalanced, tipped, and Rose backed far as she could away as it fell on top of Quirrell, who was still struggling to get to his feet. 

Voldemort’s face was a picture as he yelled a warning, looking up at the mirror falling directly on his face. It smashed into Voldemort’s face, and knocked Quirrell to the floor with a dull thunk, and the mirror shattered around him. Quirrell screamed. The heavy gilt frame fell with a hollow thunk around her downed DADA teacher. Wickedly sharp shards of glass were everywhere, slicing into Quirrell. There was a frightful amount of blood pouring out of Quirrell’s body.

Rose wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She huddled against the far wall until it became clear that Quirrell wasn’t going to move. He was still breathing, but it had been slowing, and the blood that stained the floor wasn’t coming as fast anymore.

Rose approached slowly, glass crunching underfoot, and looked into the face of Lord Voldemort. His chalk white skin was stained red with blood, red as his eyes, and he blinked slowly at her.

She supposed she should be sorry, but she wasn’t.

“Looks like I’m two for two,” she said. 

Voldemort’s mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear and had to lean in closer. “This isn’t over,” he hissed, and his eyes slid shut.

That, of course, was when Professor Dumbledore decided to show up.

:: :: :: :: 

“What are you doing?!” Rose shrieked as Draco Malfoy shoved her back into the loo she’d just exited.  He locked the door, and leaned against it with his arms crossed.

After the Stone debacle, Dumbledore had awarded Rose, Hermione and Neville back all the points they had lost for thwarting Lord Voldemort’s resurrection attempt, so Gryffindor ended up tying with Slytherin for the House Cup, so at least her housemates didn’t hate her anymore. The Slytherins had been less than thrilled at having to share, though.  

They were on the train home for the summer holidays, and truly, Rose was almost looking forward to a few magic-free months. If only she wasn’t going to spend those months with her relatives – especially since she had no idea what kind of reception awaited her. Aunt Petunia hadn’t written to her, not once, and Rose hadn’t dared to send a letter with Hedwig.

“What were you _thinking_?” he growled.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard all about your little adventure with Granger and Longbottom!  Are you insane?”

“You’re the crazy one,” Rose threw back.  “Do you usually go around shoving girls into loos?”

“You could have died!” he shouted, waving his arms around.  “Who goes into a dangerous situation with Granger and _Longbottom_ , of all people?”

“Are you trying to choose my friends for me again?  Because I’ll say it again, Draco Malfoy, I can tell the right sort for myself!”

“Obviously you can’t!  Next time you decide to risk your neck on some foolish stunt, bring along someone who’s capable of looking out for it!”

He threw the door open with a bang and stormed out.  Rose waited until she heard a second door slam shut before creeping out of the loo, and heading to her friends’ compartment.  She didn’t know why, but Draco Malfoy had accomplished what no teacher could.  He’d made Rose feel sorry enough that she vowed she’d be more careful next time.


	2. Year Two

Rose wondered how it had come to this.

Once again she was on the wrong side of Platform 9 ¾. Once again she was sitting on her trunk, feeling lost and completely alone. But this time there was no little miracle to bring her back to the wizarding world.

Rose drew her knees to her chest and watched the long hand of the station clock click to make it eleven o'clock exactly. She'd missed the train.

It had been a miserable summer. Aunt Petunia had signed her up for every beauty pageant that occurred during the two months she was home, but only spoke to Rose to tell her what she was doing wrong. Her aunt had been cold and cruel, and had often driven Rose to tears.

To top it off there had been no letters from her Hogwarts friends. Not one. Rose thought Hermione would have written her at least. She hadn't been able to go shopping for school supplies, because no one would take her—but she wouldn't have known what to buy anyway, because she hadn't even gotten her Hogwarts letter!

 _Maybe they don't want you back_ , a nasty voice in her head whispered.

Rose pressed her eyes to her knees, and told herself not to cry even as she did. "Get it together, Rose," she ordered herself. "You have to get to Hogwarts. Now, how are you going to do that?"

The barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 was silent, so there was no hope of catching the parents as they exited. She had her broom, but it was a long way from London to Scotland, and what would she do with her trunk?

Rose didn't know it, but at that moment every one of her friends were going up and down the train asking everyone if they'd seen Rose, and comparing notes. By the time Rose had started digging around in her trunk for what little Muggle money she had (a Muggle train to Scotland, and a broom flight to Hogwarts was her intended plan), they knew that Rose Potter had been incommunicado with everyone that summer, and wasn't on board the train.

While the Gryffindors panicked and worried about their friend, Draco Malfoy, who had heard the commotion, informed the Head Boy that Rose Potter was missing, and the Head Boy, in turn, contacted Professor Dumbledore to let him know, and Professor Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom and borderline passive aggressive temperament, sent Professor Snape to find their wayward heroine.

Snape found her studying a station map as she tried to decide which one was closest to Hogwarts. This was a trial, because Rose didn't know  _where_  exactly Hogwarts was located in Scotland.

"Playing truant, Miss Potter?"

Rose whirled. She knew that voice! It was—"Professor Snape! Oh, thank God!" She only  _just_  stopped herself from throwing her arms around his waist.

He grimaced at her. "Why are you not on the train to school?"

Rose explained, or tried to anyway. Relief and joy and hope were bubbling up her throat – and they were such  _odd_  emotions to have when one was confronted with a surly Potion's professor.

Snape interrupted her babbling. "You never received your Hogwarts letter?"

"No, sir."

"May I assume that you do not have the required materials?"

"No, sir. My relatives wouldn't have taken me shopping in any case."

"No, I doubt they would," he said. "It seems we have several stops to make before I can be rid of you."

And so, Severus Snape took Rose Potter shopping for school supplies. Neither would ever breathe a word about the trip.

:: :: :: ::

Even with the detour to Diagon Alley, Rose arrived at Hogwarts hours earlier than the other students.

"There she is," Draco said, his voice rising above everyone else's as the students rushed into the Great Hall. Rose raised her head off her folded arms, looking for her friends. "You can quit with your screeching now, Gryffindorks. The Girl Who Lived is still living up to her title."

Rose shot Draco a sneer, and he smirked back before heading off to the Slytherin table.

Then she was surrounded by Hermione, Lavender and Parvati.

"Rose, where were you?"

"Are you all right?"

"Why didn't you reply to our letters?"

Rose held up a hand to forestall their questions. "What letters? I never got any."

The three girls insisted they had written several times, and even Neville said he had written her.

"How could all of those letters have gotten lost?" Hermione wondered. Rose felt a trip to the library brewing. But she felt much better now, knowing that her friends had written her and worried about her absence from the train.

"It's almost like someone was trying to keep you from coming back this year," said Lavender.

Speculation was paused momentarily for the Sorting of the First Years, and when Ginny Weasley was Sorted into Gryffindor, Rose made room for the girl to sit next to her.

Ginny, blushing a bright red, but looking happy, took the seat, and Rose finally got to ask the question she'd been dying to ask since she'd first seen the girl.

"Ginny," Rose said seriously, "I have to know – is your hair color natural? And if not, how can I get it for myself?"

:: :: :: ::

"You want a signed photo?" Rose repeated faintly.

Colin Creevey beamed and babbled, but Rose couldn't hear over the rushing in her ears. She had a fanboy!

"Did I hear right?" said Draco Malfoy. "You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Luckily, he sounded amused and not malicious.

"No, I am not," she snapped.

"Everybody line up!" Draco roared to the crowd. "Rose Potter is giving out signed photos!"

"Will you shut up?"

"You're just jealous," Colin said to Draco, trying his best to look mean and failing completely.

"Jealous?" Draco said. "Why should I be jealous? I'm sure Rose will give me a signed photo too. Or maybe some genuine Rose Potter memorabilia—" He tugged the Gryffindor scarf off Rose's neck and danced away with it.

"Draco Malfoy, you give that back!"

Draco weaved out of Rose's reach, and put the scarf to his nose. "Mmm, Creevey, it even  _smells_  like her!"

Rose gave a yell and went after her scarf like it was the Snitch, and Oliver told her to get it or die trying. Draco successfully evaded her, and she went chasing after him.

She was thoroughly late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

:: :: :: ::

It was almost funny the first time. Having a fanboy should be flattering, but Colin Creevey was bordering on stalking.

He followed Rose down to Quidditch practice, and Rose felt obligated to explain the game to him. She'd been ignorant once of how the game was played, too. But he was still there (and taking photos!) when Oliver had finished talking them to death in the locker room and they were finally practicing.

Rose tried to ignore Colin, but it was hard when the little squirt was yelling for her to look at the camera every other moment. Because she was so attuned to Colin's yells (they made her flinch) she was the first one to notice the Slytherins had arrived.

She heard Colin yell something that was decidedly  _not_  her name, and looked over. Draco Malfoy was bent over Colin with his hands balled up in Colin's sweater, and whatever he was saying was threatening enough to make Colin quiver in fear.

Rose would never admit it, not under pain of death, but the sight made her feel strangely warm and fuzzy. This feeling doubled when Draco pushed Colin away and the first year ran back to the castle, leaving his camera behind.

Rose watched Draco brush his hands off, and tried hard not to smile when he caught her eye. He looked very pleased with himself.

On the ground, Oliver was facing off with the Slytherin Quidditch team's captain.

"I booked the pitch," Oliver insisted, as Rose touched down.

Flint looked smug and said they had special permission to train their new Seeker.

"You've got a new Seeker?" Oliver asked, diverted.

Rose knew immediately who it was, and bit down hard on her lip to keep from grinning. It was perfect, it was wonderful! She couldn't wait to beat him to the ground till he was begging for mercy!

Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind the rest of his team, smirking all over his pale face.

Rose and Draco ignored their teammates entirely as they went on about brooms and Draco's father, and whether Draco had bought his way onto the team. Rose knew he hadn't. Draco was good. She stepped up, bringing them toe-to-toe, matching Draco's smirk.

"You think you can beat me, Malfoy?" she said, using his drawl.

"I know I can."

She inched closer and tapped her broom handle to his. "That's a nice broom."

"Better than yours," he agreed.

Rose smiled sweetly. "It's a good thing you've got it. You'll need all the help you can get."

"Oooh, big words, Potter. Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Any time you want to have your arse kicked, you just ask."

They grinned at each other. Rose couldn't wait to play against him, and it appeared the feeling was completely mutual.

Someone slapped their broomstick over her rear, making her yelp, and brought her entirely out of her happy Quidditch haze.

"Get out of here, Potter," said Flint. "Quit flirting with our Seeker."

Rose blushed, and hurried after her teammates, but not before she saw Draco deliver a similar blow to Flint's backside and hiss something at the older boy.

 _My hero_ , she thought dryly.

:: :: :: ::

"What do you have there?" Rose asked Ginny, as she threw herself onto the common room sofa next to the youngest Weasley.

Ginny blushed. "It's just a diary."

"What's there to giggle over in your own diary?" Rose teased lightly, for Ginny had been giggling over the little book before Rose had interrupted.

"Oh, well, it's kind of neat," Ginny said, and adjusted so she and Rose were sitting shoulder to shoulder and Rose could see the book easily.

"It's empty," said Rose.

"No it's not, look—" Ginny wrote,  _Would you like to meet Rose?_  And Rose watched, wide eyed, as the words disappeared like the ink had been absorbed by the page, and then the book  _wrote back!_  Ginny quickly sketched out a few lines about Rose, and it replied again.

_She sounds like a very nice girl, Ginny. I think she'll be a good friend to you._

"That is… so cool," said Rose.

"I know, right?"

:: :: :: ::

"What's the rule for hearing voices no one else can hear?" Rose asked, voice trembling.

Hermione looked worried. "You're hearing voices?"

"Yes."

"Are they… telling you to do things?"

Rose gave Hermione a flat stare. "No. It's not a voice in my  _head_. But the voice is saying horrible things."

"Like what?"

"'Come to me. Let me rip you. Let me kill you,'" Rose repeated blandly. There was no need to attempt the malice in the voice. Hermione was white enough.

"I think we should go talk to Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione.

Rose loved it when Hermione took charge. She always felt as though she'd put herself in capable hands. "All right. Let me grab Ginny if we're going to the hospital wing. She's been looking a bit pale lately, don't you think?"

While Madam Pomfrey had no trouble simply giving Ginny a vial of Pepper-Up Potion for whatever ailed her, it appeared that when the Girl Who Lived was hearing voices it necessitated a visit from the Headmaster.

Rose held back a shriek when Professor Dumbledore, after saying, "Hmm, I wonder," conjured up a large black snake.

"What's that for?" Rose asked, her voice a bit shriller than she would have preferred. She eyed the snake warily. " _Oh, no, is this some kind of voo doo healing thing?_ " The snake reared up and its tongue flicked out. Rose whimpered.

"Ah, that seems to be the problem," said Professor Dumbledore, sounding far too pleased.

Rose looked at him, and then at Hermione and Ginny who were staring at her like  _she_  was the big creepy snake. "What?"

"You are a Parselmouth, Miss Potter."

"I'm a what?"

"You can speak the language of the snakes."

"Great! Wonderful! Problem solved! Can you get rid of it, please, sir?"

:: :: :: ::

"Well," said Fred, looking around. "This is an interesting sort of party."

Rose eyed the sea of pearly ghosts, careful to breathe through her mouth so she couldn't smell the table of rotting food.

"You didn't have to come with me," she said.

"Nonsense," said George. "We were all rescued from the wrath of Filch by good ol' Nick. Wasn't just you."

"But I was the one who promised. You guys could go up to the feast if you wanted."

"Nah," they said, and wrapped her up between them, Fred's arm around her shoulders and George's about her waist. "Ooh, look, there's Myrtle."

"Who's Myrtle?"

Soon enough Rose knew more about poor Moaning Myrtle than she'd ever wanted to know, but after that Fred and George decided the three of them were getting out of there, having socialized enough that leaving was no longer impolite.

On the way up to the feast, Rose heard the voice again.

"Shh," she said to the twins. "Do you guys hear that?"

They all paused, listening. Rose could hear it, that snake, and it sounded like a big snake, calling for blood and food, but they shook their heads.

"What is it, Rose?" asked George.

"It's a snake. A big one."

"How do you figure?" said Fred, amused.

"I can sort of  _talktosnakes_."

The twins exchanged a look that spelled mild anxiety. "Ah. Course. Should have been obvious."

"Well, I don't like it any more than anyone else does!" It turned out her second language was the sign of a Dark Witch, and she shared this inauspicious ability with the likes of Salazar Slytherin and Lord Voldemort. She was thrilled. Really. "Who wants to be able to speak to snakes anyway?" She shuddered.

The twins wrapped her up between them again. "Come along, Rosie Posey," they'd heard Lavender's nickname and had begun using it at every opportunity, "We've got some butterbeer stashed away in the Tower. You look like you could use some."

Rose never got to have that butterbeer.

Something called the 'Chamber of Secrets' had been opened, and Filch's cat had been petrified, and she was rather too busy consoling a sobbing Ginny to worry about anything like being able to speak with snakes.

:: :: :: ::

What Rose came to think of as the Great Schism occurred before Double Potions. Hermione was in lecture mode, telling Rose and the other girls what she had learned about the Chamber of Secrets and Salazar Slytherin's ideas on pureblood superiority.

"It's ridiculous, of course," Hermione said. "If witches and wizards hadn't inter-bred with Muggles the wizarding world would have died out years ago."

"Oh, shut up, you stupid Mudblood," Draco said.

Rose could tell this was an awful thing to call someone, even as a good half of the Gryffindor class gasped in shock. Rose and Hermione exchanged a confused look even as Ron Weasley went for Draco's throat.

"You shut up calling her that!" he yelled.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it? Well, you won't have to worry about your little Mudblood girlfriend for long, Weasley," Draco said nastily. "Slytherin's monster will get her. She'll be the first to go, I expect."

Hermione had gone white, and Ron had thrown a punch, and that was just… that was it.

Rose shoved Ron aside, because, dammit, this was an attack on  _her_  friend, and Draco had absolutely no right to say such things about Hermione.

Something in her face made Draco's expression go from taunting to wary, and he didn't resist at all as her hands nudged him so his back was to the wall. She just stared at him. She was so angry she was shaking, so angry she couldn't speak. She couldn't believe she had started to  _like_  this prat.

"What?" he said, going for challenging, but it just came out hoarse.

"Never talk to me again," she said, and though her voice was quiet everyone heard in the silence.

His expression shuttered, and Rose felt the burn of tears, though she wasn't at all sad.

At that moment, Snape threw the door open, and Rose whirled towards it, grabbing Hermione as she went.

:: :: :: ::

For all that Rose had been looking forward to this match, now that it was here, and now that she truly hated Draco Malfoy, she really didn't want to play him.

She had been able to avoid him since the 'Schism', but now that they were mostly alone in the air above the Quidditch pitch, she had no choice but to listen to him.

"Leave me alone," she ground out.

"No. You're being unreasonable. I was only telling the truth."

"You were being cruel and hurtful. You called Hermione that  _name,_  and all but wished her dead!"

"I didn't wish her dead. I only said it was a very real possibility."

Rose entertained the idea of kicking him off his broom. "You're the most terrible boy I've ever met, and believe me, that's saying something."

"Why are you friends with her in the first place? Don't you know you can do better?"

"Shut the hell up."

They flew in circles over the pitch, Rose looking for the Snitch so she wouldn't have to look at Draco. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Rose, please," he said.

"Malfoy!" Flint screamed, flying up to them. "Talk to your girlfriend on your own time! Find the damned Snitch!"

Draco growled out a curse, and flew to the opposite end of the pitch.

"He's not my boyfriend," Rose grumbled.

Rose wanted to rage and scream and over-analyze every word Draco had said, but didn't have the opportunity, because just then a Bludger tried to kill her.

She caught the Snitch anyway.

:: :: :: ::

The other girls didn't like to use Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but Rose didn't mind it. No one else ever used it, so it was an ideal place to talk about things when they didn't have time to go up to the Tower.

Ginny still wasn't feeling well, and was even more prone to emotional outbursts now that Colin had been attacked. Rose had taken her to Madam Pomfrey, and the nurse had suggested Ginny spend the night. She had only calmed down with the help of a calming draught and an afternoon spent under the effects of a Dreamless Sleep potion.

And Ginny wouldn't go near Myrtle's bathroom anyway. She said something about it freaked her out. Rose rather thought it was the messages in red paint on the wall outside.

"I still say the Heir is Malfoy," said Lavender, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

"It's not Draco," said Rose, for what felt like the hundredth time. "Whoever is doing this is a psychopath and a terrorist, and Draco isn't either. He's just a dumb boy who parrots whatever his daddy tells him."

"But he threatened Colin when he was bugging you, and then Colin started it up again when you started fighting with Draco, and now Colin's been petrified."

Rose sighed. "I know it looks bad, but trust me. It isn't Draco."

:: :: :: ::

"You know how in horror movies the serial killer picks off the heroine's friends one by one until she's the only one who's left?" said Rose. "That's how I feel."

"My," said Lavender, "don't we have an inflated sense of self?"

Rose shrugged, but that was how it seemed. Her fanboy, Colin Creevey had been the first to be petrified, and while Rose had felt awful about it (because whatever Draco had done to scare Colin off initially hadn't deterred him since Rose had stopped speaking to Draco), she was sort of grateful for the reprieve from constant photography.

The next had been Justin Finch-Fletchley, who Rose partnered with in Herbology, because Hermione always bogarted Neville and his green thumb.

"I'm just saying… you know, be careful."

:: :: :: ::

At Rose's urging Hermione went home for Christmas break. Of all her friends Rose was convinced Hermione was in the most danger from Slytherin's monster, and didn't want anything to happen to her.

"The Weasleys are staying too," Rose said. "I'll spend the hols with Ginny." Hermione agreed reluctantly.

So Rose spent the entirety of Christmas break in Ginny's company, and the girls learned they had three very important things in common. They both liked chocolate, boys, and Quidditch.

"Don't tell," Ginny said, unwrapping another Chocolate Frog, "but I'm pretty good. I've been sneaking out nights for years to use my brother's brooms. They don't have any idea."

Rose couldn't wait until Ginny joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team too. She loved Hermione, but didn't share her friend's obsession with books.

They spent much of their time lounging around in Rose's room. Ginny had supplied Rose with a whole stack of  _Quidditch Monthly_  magazines, and as she read Ginny scribbled away in her diary. Rose had never known anyone who wrote in their diary as much as Ginny did, but she supposed having one that could talk back was a point in her favor.

"Rose," she said, "C'mere. Tom wants to talk to you."

"Who's Tom?"

Ginny held up her diary.

"Your diary is a boy?"

Ginny shrugged. "He went to school here fifty years ago. He was a Slytherin and a prefect."

Rose frowned. "He was a real person? How does that work?" Rose knew that she was woefully ignorant of just what magic was capable of, but this seemed a little far fetched.

"I don't really know," Ginny said. "He said he created the diary when he was a sixth year. He said he put a little bit of his soul into it."

"His soul? How do you… oh, nevermind." Rose propped herself up on the bed next to Ginny, and the two huddled over the diary. "Should I just write?"

Ginny nodded, and so Rose did, feeling sort of silly.

_Hello, Tom. It's Rose._

And Tom wrote back, and what he wanted to talk about made Rose go cold, and beside her Ginny went very still and very pale.

:: :: :: ::

"I don't believe it," Rose said pacing the length of the room. "There's no way that Hagrid is the Heir of Slytherin. He'd never hurt anyone, and besides, that thing Hagrid had was a spider, and if Slytherin had a monster it would be… it would be…"

"A snake," Ginny whispered.

Rose sat down slowly, feeling faint. "You don't think it's the same one I've been hearing, do you? I thought it was just someone's pet that got loose!"

Ginny stood abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this any more. I can't. It's—" she started to cry.

"Ginny, please, come with me. I need to go look at the wall. The entrance to the Chamber must be around there—"

"Please don't make me go," Ginny wailed. "There's something very wrong—"

"Yes, there is! There's a giant snake slithering around the school attacking people! And for some reason it's people who are close to me, and you and I both know who the Heir will be after next if it's going after my Muggleborn friends."

"Hermione," Ginny said miserably. "All right, fine. Let's go."

They didn't find anything suspicious at the scene of the crime, at least, if you didn't count the red paint daubed on the stone in the latest threatening message. Ginny was shaking, and Rose felt awful about dragging her along when she was so obviously terrified.

"You and I should be safe," said Rose. "I'm a half-blood and you're a pureblood, so we should be aces."

Ginny nodded, but didn't look assured by Rose's admittedly shaky logic.

"What are you doing here?" Myrtle asked when Rose began poking around in the girls' bathroom. Ginny stood by the sinks hugging herself.

"'Lo, Myrtle," said Rose. "We're just looking around…" A thought occurred to her, and she asked, "Hey Myrtle, do you know anything about the girl who died at Hogwarts about fifty years ago? She would have been a Muggleborn—" But Rose didn't need to go on.

"Of course, I do," Myrtle said smugly. " _I_  was that girl."

Rose and Ginny exchanged wide-eyed looks. "Myrtle, that was you? Slytherin's monster killed you?"

Myrtle flipped her hair, and Rose got the feeling Myrtle had never felt so flattered in all her existence. "Well, I don't know about any monster, but I died in this very bathroom. I was in that stall there, behind you, and I a heard a boy's voice speaking in some funny language, so I opened the door to tell him to go away, and then, I  _died_."

"But how?"

"I don't know," she said. "I remember seeing a great big pair of yellow eyes, and then my whole body seized up and I was floating away."

Now  _that_  sounded like a monster. But what sort of snake could kill someone just by looking at it?

Rose moved to the stall Myrtle had indicated. "So you were here," she said, feeling excited, "and you looked where? Towards where Ginny's standing?"

Ginny gave a shuddering sob.

Myrtle floated a bit to Ginny's left, just in front of the far sink that never worked. "Here, I think," the ghost said.

Rose hurried to the sink, and wondered feverishly if this was how detectives felt when they were solving a mystery. She looked the sink over, even getting down on her knees to look at the underside.

"Rose," Ginny said, sniffling, "Look." She pointed at one of the taps. A tiny snake was etched into the copper.

"No  _way_."

:: :: :: ::

Rose and Ginny received a hundred points from Professor Dumbledore for discovering the location of the Chamber of Secrets.

The Headmaster warded Myrtle's bathroom door so no student could pass, but warned the girls not to tell the other students the location, because it still wasn't quite safe. Rose suspected that Dumbledore had no idea who the Heir was, and wasn't able to access the Chamber himself. And while Rose was happy that the Heir would no longer be able to let the monster roam free, she knew it was still down there. Waiting and hungry.

Ginny was relieved. Rose could see it. It was like a weight had been pressing down on her shoulders and now it was gone. But Rose didn't know why until several weeks later.

Ginny pulled her down to sit on the floor of the common room in front of the fire late on the night before Valentine's Day. She was twisting the sleeves of her bathrobe around her fingers.

"I need to tell you something," she said quietly. "But don't say anything until I'm done, okay?"

Rose nodded, and Ginny explained how she'd been waking up in strange places with no idea of how she'd gotten there, and how she had come to with red paint down her front on the night of Halloween, and how there had been rooster feathers all over her robes other times, and how she'd had those funny black outs during the times that Colin and Justin had been attacked.

"I think," she said, tears rolling freely down her cheeks and sobs breaking up her speech, "I think it's the diary. I think Tom is making me do these things. I haven't written in it since that day during the hols, and nothing has happened since then, and I don't feel as sick and tired all of the time. Rose, I think I'm the Heir."

"Oh, Ginny," Rose said, and pulled her friend in for a tight hug. "You'd never do anything like this. You'd  _never_."

"Not if I knew what I was doing," she agreed. "But I have to get rid of it, Rose. Don't you see? If I destroy the diary then maybe all of it will stop!"

Ginny began to cry in earnest and Rose hushed her. "Okay, okay," she said. "You want to burn it then?"

Ginny nodded, and with shaking fingers, she pulled the diary out of the pocket of her bathrobe. She tossed it on the hearth like it was covered in something foul, and the two of them just stared at it. It lay there, so innocently, so very mundane, but now that Rose was looking for it the diary seemed to pulse with something vile and unnatural.

"Do you want to do the honors?"

Ginny fetched the fire tongs and pinched the diary in between them before dropping it into the fire.

They watched, waiting for it catch light, waiting for the pages to blacken and curl. But it didn't. It sat there, an untouchable black square in the heart of the flames.

"Oh, Christ," said Rose.

Ginny whimpered, but pulled it out with the tongs, dropping it to the hearthstones once more.

"We'll figure out a way," Rose promised, staring darkly at the diary. "It can't be indestructible.  _Something_  can destroy it."

:: :: :: ::

It was understood that Rose and Ginny would keep their suspicions about the Heir of Slytherin to themselves. So far no one suspected Ginny of being the unwilling culprit, and Rose intended to keep it that way.

If Rose had thought Ginny looked relieved after Myrtle's bathroom had been magically sealed shut, that was nothing to confessing her secret and knowing that Rose didn't blame her for any of it. The next morning at breakfast she was grinning and teasing Rose about the number of Valentine's she'd received, and shamelessly stealing chocolates.

They left the Great Hall with Hermione, as all three were heading the same direction for their lessons, when Rose was accosted by a very persistent singing dwarf.

They had unfortunately drawn a bit of a crowd, but Rose was willing to bear it if it meant that Ginny was laughing. Even if it was at Rose's expense.

"All right," she said to the dwarf, defeated. "Let's have it."

The dwarf twanged on his harp, and began to sing in a horrible throaty voice:

" _Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_Her hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish she were mine, she's really divine,_

_The girl who conquered the Dark Lord."_

The crowd around them erupted in applause and laughter.

"Oh, Christ," Rose moaned, and dropped her face to hide in Ginny's shaking shoulder. "Please hide me."

"I wonder who sent it?" Hermione said.

"Poetry that terrible could only be the work of Fred and George," Ginny giggled.

Rose straightened up and swept her hair out of her face. "Oh, well, that's okay then."

"Oooo," Lavender and Parvati cooed. "Rose Potter and the Weasley Twins!"

"Scandalous!" Parvati cheered.

Rose blushed, as they had taken her relief entirely the wrong way, and opened her mouth to explain, but was stopped by the thunderous expression on Draco Malfoy's face. She frowned curiously at him, but he turned and stomped away.

:: :: :: ::

In her spare time, Hermione was indulging her curiosity and looking for information on what sort of beast could have killed Myrtle just by looking her in the eye. Admittedly, she probably would have been able to find the information sooner if Rose and Ginny had told her their suspicions about the monster being a snake, and the bit about Ginny having apparently strangled the school roosters.

But Hermione, being her brilliant self, was able to figure it out anyway.

"A basilisk," she said proudly, and showed Rose the book.

Rose read it aloud:

" _Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_

Ginny looked quite pale, and she and Rose both looked at each other and away.

"Roosters, though," Rose said. "That sounds easy. All Dumbledore needs to do is toss a couple into the Chamber and wait." She grinned.

The girls exchanged smiles, Ginny's rather shaky.

:: :: :: ::

Rose should have known that it was all too good to last. She and Ginny had tried to destroy the diary, but nothing worked. They had tried soaking it in alcohol (shamelessly stolen from a sixth year) and setting it on fire, stabbing it with knives, dousing it in a cauldron full of poison, but nothing.

The diary sat untouched, unharmed.

Ginny began complaining of headaches and a shortness of temper, and Rose thought that maybe Tom's hold on her went deeper than they had thought. She didn't voice this fear, but watched her friend for signs of possession. She wondered if getting some holy water to sprinkle on Ginny was going too far.

And then came the most horrible news.

Neither Ginny nor Hermione were at dinner, and Rose went looking for them when it seemed they weren't going to show.

She was by the library when Professor Dumbledore's voice, magically amplified, boomed through the halls, "All students are to return to their House dormitories immediately. All teachers to the staff room."

"Oh, God," Rose said. "Oh, no." She went running in the opposite direction, towards the infirmary.

She passed the wall where all the Heir's messages had been written and screeched to a stop. The message had changed.

' _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_.'

Rose shook and reached out a hand. The paint was still wet, and came away on her fingers. She bit back the panic that was trying to choke her, and continued on to the infirmary.

It was Hermione.

Rose walked up to her friend who was so very still in the small bed, her expression one of surprise, and said a word that Hermione would have scolded her for using.

"Miss Potter! What are you doing here? You are meant to be in your dormitory." Madam Pomfrey began to shoo her out. "The mandrakes are nearly ready to be harvested, and Miss Granger will be back to normal in one week. You needn't worry."

"But, but," Rose said, feeling so very helpless. Hermione was the one who always knew what to do. Rose looked at her friend, who could offer no help, and began to sob. "But what about Ginny?"

Rose had been hoping somewhere deep in her heart that the message had been a lie, but she saw the truth on Madam Pomfrey's face when she said Ginny's name.

"Go back to your dormitory, dear girl. Only the professors can help Miss Weasley now."

But Madam Pomfrey was wrong. The professors couldn't help. They'd known where the Chamber of Secrets was for months now, and nothing had been done about it, which led her to believe that they  _couldn't_  do anything.

But Rose could.

:: :: :: ::

Somewhere between the infirmary and Gryffindor Tower Rose pulled herself together. She bounded through the portrait hole, barely noticing that nearly all of her housemates were congregated in the common room, looking afraid and sad.

She ran up to her dormitory and pulled out her father's Invisibility Cloak, and while digging through her trunk surmised that Ginny had indeed taken the diary.

"I need," she said, thinking aloud, "I need, I need, what do I need?"

She needed a pet. Rose threw open the window and shouted for Hedwig, hoping her dear owl would hear her and come quickly.

Rose hurried down the girls' staircase, and then ran up the boys', ignoring Lavender and Parvati who were calling her name, and didn't stop until she reached Fred and George's dorm room.

"Fred! George!" she yelled.

"'Lo, Rosie Posey," George said, and she hated,  _hated_  that his voice sounded that way. It wasn't like Ginny was  _dead_. She wouldn't let that happen.

Rose breezed past where they were lying shoulder to shoulder on a bed, and threw the window open, looking for Hedwig.

"I need your help," she said. "I need you to transfigure my owl into a rooster."

Fred raised an eyebrow, "Much as I respect the ridiculousness of that request, do you really feel that now is the time?"

"I'm going to get Ginny, and I need a  _god damned rooster!_ " Any other day, Rose would have relished saying something that made the twins look that gobsmacked. Today she had to choke down a hysterical sob.

Hedwig flew through the open window and perched on the back of desk chair. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

She was lucky the twins were such Gryffindors, and thus didn't require much explanation when asked to rush into a dangerous situation. Rose needed only to say that the Heir had taken Ginny to the Chamber, that Rose knew where the Chamber was and how to get in it, and that she also knew how to kill Slytherin's monster.

"A rooster? Really?" said Fred.

"That's what Hermione said." And that was good enough for everybody.

Hedwig was Not Happy about being transfigured into a rooster, but Rose begged and pleaded and told Hedwig she would spoil her within an inch of her life if only she'd help. Hedwig gave a disdainful hoot, but settled down long enough for the twins to get the spell right.

The tricky part would be getting to Myrtle's bathroom undetected.

It turned out that Fred and George had a really neat map, which showed where everyone was in the castle. There was only one teacher anywhere near the bathroom, but unfortunately, it was Snape.

"He's not exactly easy to fool," Rose fretted. "How will we get past him?"

Fred and George exchanged looks. "How much time will you need to get the Chamber open?"

"I don't know. I've never done it before." At their identical looks of dismay, Rose said defensively, "Well, I don't think it will take long!"

"All right," they said. "We're going to need a sacrifice."

:: :: :: ::

Ron Weasley was all too willing to get detention if it meant the safe return of his sister, and Rose was completely wrong about Snape not being easy to fool.

Rose, the twins, and a caged Hedwig waited in the shadows, while Ron circled around to the opposite end of the second floor hallway and made a tremendous racket as he stomped through the intersection, calling his sister's name in a desperate voice that Rose didn't think he had to fake.

Snape yelled for him to stop, but Ron followed orders and kept on going, screaming for Ginny. They watched as Snape threw back his head, groaning in exasperation, and followed Ron, leaving the coast very clear.

The rescue party hustled into the bathroom, and Fred locked the door behind them.

"It's here," Rose said, indicating the sink. "I think I need to speak Parseltonge to open it."

"Well, go on then."

Rose squinted down at the etching of the snake on the tap, and said, "Open up."

"That was English," George said helpfully.

She tried harder, thinking about the snake Dumbledore had conjured up in the infirmary, and imagining the snake on the tap looked like that one as it had reared up and tasted the air with its tongue.

" _Open_."

And it did.

:: :: :: ::

It was a shame Tom Riddle was such a psycho, Rose thought absently as he went on and  _on_  about how awesome he was, because he was kind of hot. And really, it was too bad Ginny wasn't awake (was instead comatose with her head lolling where Rose had propped her up in her lap), because Rose was sure her friend had a few choice words for Tom Riddle. She was running on rage and fear, and was only barely keeping hysteria at bay, which led to irreverent and flippant trains of thought.

Somewhere, hiding in the shadows, Fred, George, and Hedwig were waiting for her signal. Rose thought they should wait until the Basilisk was near before having Hedwig crow. She didn't want to risk it getting away; she wanted it to  _die_.

"Don't you see Rose? I don't care about killing Mudbloods any longer. For months now, my new target has been  _you_."

"Yes," Rose said, "I picked up on that, actually. Though I'm not sure why  _you_  have any particular interest in  _me_."

His smile was sharp. "I have so many questions for you, Rose Potter."

"Such as?"

He smiled pleasantly. "How is it that you – a silly little girl with no extraordinary magical talent – managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

Rose blinked at him. "Why are you so interested? Voldemort was long after your time."

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future." Tom demonstrated this by illustrating in letters made of fire how his name handily anagrammed itself into 'I Am Lord Voldemort.'

Rose felt abruptly that they should have invited Professor Snape along on this jaunt, and also that Tom Riddle was such a  _nerd_.

Again, she wished Ginny were awake. They could point and laugh at the young Dark Lord together. While Rose debated what Tom's reaction would be to being pointed and laughed at, he was going on and  _on_  once more about how brilliant he was. It was tiresome. Where was the snake, already?

"What are you smiling about?" Tom demanded, shocking Rose out of her reverie.

"Oh, nothing. Carry on."

"It's time for you to die, Rose Potter."

Tom turned to the large statue of Salazar Slytherin, and began speaking in Parseltongue. " _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_."

Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Rose watched, transfixed, as the mouth opened wider and wider to make a huge black hole.

Rose turned her back on it, and curled over Ginny, clapping one hand over her eyes and one over Ginny's, just in case.

She could hear the snake moving, scales dragging over stone, and it was nearly time, nearly there. Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Rose felt the shudder all the way up her spine. Now.

"Hedwig, now!" she screamed.

Her owl, her beautiful, beautiful owl, who would be spoiled and pampered, and allowed whatever she wanted off of Rose's plate every breakfast for the rest of her life, let out a crow that shook the walls of the Chamber.

" _COO COO! CUU CUU, COO COO!_ "

Rose heard the Basilisk hiss in pain, even though Hedwig's crows were ringing in her ears. And best of all, she heard Tom Riddle screaming with rage.

"Again, Hedwig!"

Rose didn't dare look, but the hisses of the snake were fearful now. It was thrashing on the ground, tremendous thumps, like a battering ram against the stone. She could feel the air being displaced, and rushing past her head, making her hair flutter. Rose hoped she and Ginny would not be in the path of the Basilisk as it thrashed and died.

"Nooo!" Tom screamed. "No! How dare you!"

When the snake went quiet and still, Rose tentatively opened her eyes. It lay not fifteen feet away, quite dead, and its eyes had closed. Tom was beside the monster, his hands roving over its gigantic head, and he was still screaming – using words that were quite rude to say in the presence of young ladies.

Tom's impotent rage filled Rose with a sweet, serene calm. She carefully laid Ginny on the ground, and picked up the diary before waltzing over to Tom and the Basilisk.

The snake's mouth was open, showing long fangs, which, thanks to Hermione, Rose knew were quite poisonous. She and Ginny hadn't yet tried snake venom on the diary, and now seemed the appropriate time.

Tom raged and screamed at her, and even tried to wrap his fingers around her throat, but he wasn't quite corporeal enough for that. Rose smiled sweetly at him.

"Goodbye, Tom," she said, and with her hands wrapped around either side of the diary, she swung upwards and impaled the little book on the Basilisk's fang.

:: :: :: ::

It had seemed like a foolproof plan, and true, up until that point things had gone off without a hitch. They were standing at the bottom of the chute that had sent them down into the Chamber, all frowning at the seemingly endless distance to the faint light that shone at the top.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Ginny.

"Aw, crap," said Rose.

They sat there for quite some time. Fred and George dug out their map, and the four watched the teachers scurry like ants around the castle.

"Mum and Dad are here," Ginny said, pointing to the dots that were entering the castle. "Oh, they must be so worried."

"Ron must hold up well under torture," Fred commented. "He's been in that office with McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore for awhile."

"Let's hope he breaks soon," Ginny said. "If he doesn't tell them where we are there's no one to come rescue us."

Awhile later, they heard a voice at the top of the chute, though the map showed no one. "Hel- _lo_. Where did this hole come from? Is there someone in there?"

The four immediately began yelling, and Rose thought she'd never live it down. Moaning Myrtle had rescued them.

:: :: :: ::

Gryffindor won the House Cup handily yet again. Rose, Fred, and George all received a hundred points for destroying Slytherin's monster and rescuing Ginny, and Rose got an extra fifty for defeating Lord Voldemort, yet again.

A week later, the mandrakes were cut and the Basilisk's would-be victims woke up. Dumbledore decided that the end of all the terror deserved a large party and the canceling of end of year exams.

Rose felt this was very fair.

On the train home for the summer holidays, Rose and Hermione shared a compartment with the Weasleys.

"I hope next year is quieter," Rose said, as Ginny painted her fingernails.

"I don't see how it couldn't be," Ginny replied.

Everyone in the compartment looked in horror at Ginny, who realized what she'd said, and all six of them quickly knocked on wood.  
  



	3. Year Three, Part 1

"Spin," said Aunt Petunia, twirling her finger.

Rose obliged, looking down at the gown she was wearing. It was a deep blue with rhinestones that trailed like raindrops from the bodice to her hips, and it was the prettiest dress Rose had ever worn. Little Miss London was tomorrow, and Rose had never wanted to win a pageant so badly.

If she won Little Miss London she would be eligible to compete in Little Miss England in November. This would necessitate leaving Hogwarts for a week, but for that crown and the large grand prize she was very willing to do it.

"You look lovely," her aunt said softly.

"You think so?" Rose asked hopefully.

Aunt Petunia's soft expression shuttered. "Well, nearly," she said, "I don't know what we're going to do about your hair. It's more of a wreck than usual, isn't it?"

Rose looked at her hands. She didn't know why she always did this to herself. She knew that Aunt Petunia didn't care for  _her_ , not really. Her aunt had always wanted a little girl, but was unable to have any more children after Dudley. Then Rose was dropped on her doorstep. Shame about the freaky magic.

Aunt Petunia turned on the telly to halt any further conversation, and gestured for Rose to get up on the footstool. The skirt needed to be adjusted to allow for the height of the shoes Rose would be wearing.

 _Neighbours_  was on the telly, and Rose wondered idly as she watched the drama unfold what the wizarding world had to compare to television. It was one thing she missed when she was away at school.

A news bulletin interrupted the broadcast.

"BBC News has just received word of a dangerous criminal who has escaped from prison. The man is Sirius Black, convicted of the murders of thirteen people. The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sightings of Black should be reported immediately."

The hotline number was shown under a photo of Black. He was gaunt and pale, and his hair reached his elbows in a matted tangle.

Rose grimaced. "He looks awful. Don't they let prisoners shower?" Rose looked at her aunt, who had gone white and was holding a hand to her throat. "Aunt Petunia?"

"I know that man. I've met him."

" _Where?_ "

"At your parent's wedding. He was the best man."

Rose reeled, and nearly fell off the footstool. "My parents were friends with a  _murderer?_ "

Aunt Petunia looked at her balefully. "Now do you see why I kept all that from you?"

:: :: :: ::

Despite the world rocking news that her Mum and Dad (who she had always heard nice things about) had been friendly with a murderer, Rose won Little Miss London.

Though Rose hated herself for needing it so much, Aunt Petunia's obvious pride carried Rose through the entire week Aunt Marge came to stay. Marge, who hadn't come to the pageant, demanded that Rose give a repeat performance of the talent portion of the show, in which Rose had sung Etta James's 'At Last'. Rose fairly glowed under Aunt Petunia's praise and Marge's applause.

She didn't even  _like_  Aunt Marge.

Rose escaped to the garden after dinner to get her head screwed on straight, with Marge's bulldog, Ripper, following close behind. Ripper was a mean old dog, but Rose liked him. She sat on the lowest step, and Ripper lay on her feet, demanding to be petted.

"You're lucky," she said to him, rubbing behind his ears. "Dogs have it so easy. All you have to do is open those big old eyes and whine, and people want to love you. It's not so easy for us freaks masquerading as teenage beauty queens."

Ripper panted happily and licked her hand. Rose couldn't help but smile.

After a thorough petting, Marge called for Ripper to come inside, as it was time for his dinner. Rose leaned back on her hands and looked at the sunset. She heard a low whine and looked around, thinking Ripper was back.

But he was not.

A very large, very dirty, black dog was sitting on its heels just a few feet away. Rose gave a tremendous start and scrambled backwards. "Oh! Where did you come from?" The dog gave another whine and lay down till his head was resting on his paws. He looked up at her with huge gray eyes.

Rose could feel her heart melting. "Aw, don't do that. Come on now."

The dog was obviously a stray. He didn't have a collar, and no one in the Dursley's neighborhood would let their dog go around looking like this one. These people took their dogs to groomers.

The dog whined again, and Rose gave in. She was a sucker when it came to animals. She crept closer, not wanting to startle him, because this dog looked like he could take her apart if he were so inclined. He was as big as she was.

"Hey there," she said, reaching out a hand for the dog to sniff. He did and licked her. Taking this as a good sign, Rose tentatively began to pet the dog's head. He lolled into her touch. "You're just a big softie, aren't you?" she murmured, scratching the dog's ears.

He raised his head and grinned a doggy smile at her and began to pant.

"You need a bath, buster. You smell."

The dog whined hopefully.

"You  _want_  a bath?" Rose asked incredulously. "I didn't think dogs liked baths."

Oddly this dog seemed to understand her, because he stood up and ambled over to where the garden hose was coiled in the lawn and nudged it with his nose.

"Huh," said Rose. "Well. All right then. I'll be right back."

Rose fetched a bottle of cheap shampoo, and took it back outside. She half-expected the dog to be gone, but he was still there, sitting next to the garden hose.

Rose turned on the faucet and then dropped down to her knees beside the dog. "This should be an adventure. I've never given a dog a bath before." She pointed sternly at him. "No shaking water all over me, got it?"

The dog gave a little wuff, and then stood very still, obviously waiting for Rose to start scrubbing.

"You are the weirdest dog."

:: :: :: ::

To Rose's utter shock, it was all due to Aunt Marge that she got to keep the dog.

"Children should have pets, Petunia," she said. "I'll admit, you've done a fine job with your sister's girl, but if you don't want her to turn out like her mother, a dog would be a fine way to teach her a bit of responsibility."

While Rose resented the dig at her mum, she desperately wanted to keep the dog, and so kept her mouth shut.

Aunt Petunia agreed with Marge, but later said to Rose, "It can stay for the summer, but I'll not take care of it when you go back to school. So either you figure out a way to bring it with you, or it goes straight to the pound."

Rose agreed immediately. She was sure she could come up with something.

After a bath the dog didn't look nearly as scary, and Aunt Petunia allowed Rose to bring him up to her bedroom.

Rose sat on her bed, and she and the dog stared at each other.

"Well, I guess you're staying. I don't know what I'll do with you when school starts. Dogs aren't on the approved list of pets," Rose sighed. "Do you think Dumbledore will make an exception?"

The dog gave her hand a lick, and turned in a circle before flopping down on the rug.

"I guess it can't hurt to try."

Rose wrote the letter to Professor Dumbledore, and tried not to sound too desperate. She sent the letter off with Hedwig.

"You're going to need a name." Rose lay across her bed, and gave the dog a considering look. "What should I call you?"

The dog reminded her of something. It niggled in her brain. "Oh, I know," she said. "I'll call you Grim." Lavender and Parvati were mad about divination, and were certainly taking the class this year. Lavender had a book about omens, and had showed Rose the most dire of them all: a large black dog, the Grim, a portent of death.

Grim made a noise that sounded like a laugh, and Rose smiled.

:: :: :: ::

Rose loved Grim.

They took walks every day of the summer, and played in the park for hours. Grim's favorite game involved a length of rope, and trying to tug Rose's arms out of their sockets. It usually ended with Rose falling to the ground, and Grim jumping all over her, licking her face.

She received a reply from Dumbledore, which said that she could bring her dog to Hogwarts, but he could not stay in Gryffindor Tower. She would have to ask Hagrid if her dog could stay with him. Hagrid, of course, was all too happy to take care of Rose's dog, as Fang could use the company.

During the second week of August she got a letter that once again shook the foundations of her world.

It was delivered via a beautiful eagle owl when Rose was getting ready to go to sleep, and Grim was already snoozing on the rug. The envelope was a heavy vellum, which Rose could tell was expensive, and the seal was a curling dragon with stars picked out along its body, imprinted in Slytherin green wax.

It was obvious who the letter was from, but Rose couldn't fathom why Draco Malfoy would be writing her.

She broke the seal, and read:

_Rose,_

_I doubt you'll want to hear this from me, but I can't think of anyone else who would tell you the truth, and as you need to know, I suppose it falls to me to be the bearer of bad news._

_You've no doubt heard by now that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. What you may not know is that Black was your father's best friend at Hogwarts, and he was named your godfather._

_My mother tells me that during the last war there was a spy who fed information to the Dark Lord, and was a traitor to the Light. This man was Sirius Black, and he is the reason your parents are dead. Your parents were in hiding, to protect you, I think, and Black gave up their location to the Dark Lord._   _The very next day, after learning of the Dark Lord's demise, Black killed another of his childhood friends and blew up a street, killing twelve Muggles._

_My father spends a lot of time at the Ministry, and has learned something else that prompted me to write you. The Ministry doesn't want it coming out to the public, and I doubt anyone has even told you, but you have to know._

_Rose, Black is after you. It's why he escaped. You're the reason his Master is dead, and he's angry. Black had apparently been babbling in his cell the week before he escaped, saying over and over, 'He's at Hogwarts.' I know, you're a 'she' and not a 'he', but people go mad in Azkaban, and the Ministry thinks Black is just confused._

_I've enclosed a clipping from the Daily Prophet, in case you haven't seen him, so you'll know what he looks like._

_Write back._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Rose, with shaky fingers, wrote a short note –  _I'm fine. I'll write more tomorrow_. – and sent it off with Draco's owl.

She lay in bed, her mind strangely blank, and for a long time just stared at Draco's signature. Grim nosed her hand and Rose put the letter down, and realized she was crying.

Once she realized, she couldn't stop. Rose fell to the floor beside her dog, buried her face in his shiny fur, and sobbed.

:: :: :: ::

Rose had been planning on going to Diagon Alley, but after reading Draco's letter she was rather afraid to venture out of the house. She sat on the stairs in indecision for several minutes, and Grim sat at her feet, looking at her with his head cocked to one side.

"This is stupid," Rose said finally, with a lot of false bravado. "I'm not afraid of Sirius Black. Sirius Black should be afraid of me."

Grim growled approvingly.

"You'll protect me? Right, Grim?"

Grim barked.

Heartened, Rose and Grim left the house, and called the Knight Bus.

:: :: :: ::

Surprisingly, none of the shopkeepers minded Rose bringing Grim along while she did her shopping. Diagon Alley wasn't terribly busy on a Wednesday morning, and all of them were eager to help Rose find her school things, and everyone wanted to meet her dog.

The perks of being the Girl Who Lived.

She had a hard time explaining to people why she had named her dog Grim, as most wizards feared the Grim like Christians feared the Devil, but they were able to muddle through, and it helped that Grim was acting friendly.

Wanted posters for Sirius Black were everywhere she turned, and the man's growling face disturbed her more and more every time she suddenly came across it. She wished that Ginny or Hermione were with her, but Ginny was in Egypt for several more weeks with her family, and Hermione was in France with hers, and Rose didn't particularly want to do her shopping with every other Hogwarts student the day before term started.

She was sufficiently distracted from her loneliness by the most beautiful sight in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Look at that," she whispered reverently to Grim, who was, as always, at her side. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

The racing broom, the Firebolt, was a pale, pretty thing and it looked terribly fast. Rose wanted more than anything to fly it.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and whirled her around. Rose yelped.

"I can't believe you!" said Draco Malfoy. "I write to tell you that a crazed mass murderer is out for your blood, and you go  _shopping!_ "

Grim growled menacingly, and Draco took a step back.

"What is  _that?_ " he asked.

"My bodyguard," Rose said tartly.

"A dog? Rose, come on!" he said. Rose felt a huge rant coming on, and oh, could Draco rant.

She took his arm and turned him to face the window. "Draco, Draco, look," she said in a hushed voice. "Isn't it just…"

They both stared for a bit. The broom was a Seeker's dream, and stole all of Draco's attention for the moment.

"The Firebolt," he said. "I've seen it.  _I want it_."

"Me too," Rose sighed. "Price on request, though," she read off the placard. "It must be very expensive."

"My father already told me no."

Rose hummed sadly. "There's really nothing wrong with our Nimbus's," she reasoned.

"I suppose."

"But, Christ, can you imagine?"

"I imagine I'd be able to beat you."

Rose laughed. "You'd need it, Malfoy."

He grinned at her, and then frowned, remembering that he was angry with her. "Seriously, though, you need to go home. Black could be anywhere—"

"What makes you think I'm any safer there? My relatives are Muggles, if you'll recall."

Draco's mouth twisted. "Fine. For the record, I think you're being stupid."

"So noted," she said. "Are you doing your school shopping?"

"Yes. I'm meant to be in Madam Malkin's right now."

"I'll go with you. I need new robes too."

Grim followed at Rose's side, and she noticed that her dog was  _glowering_  at Draco. "I don't think Grim likes you," she said.

Draco shot the dog a glare of his own. "I don't know how I feel about him either." He held the door to the robe shop open for her. "Wait, did you say his name was  _Grim?_  That's just morbid, Potter."

:: :: :: ::

As a 'special treat' Rose made an appointment at the dog groomer for Grim the day before they left for Hogwarts.

When the groomer brought Grim out to her, Rose stopped short and asked, "Are you sure that's my dog?"

The groomer chuckled. "He's quite a handsome man under all that hair, isn't he?"

Gone were the lengths of shaggy hair that stubbornly refused to untangle, no matter how often Rose brushed it out. Grim's coat was now short and sleek. He was indeed a handsome dog, though he was much skinnier than Rose had thought him to be when his fur had been longer.

Grim grinned his doggy grin at her when Rose got down on the floor to pet him. "I really didn't recognize him," she said. "He's a brand new dog."

Not wanting a repeat of last year's debacle, Rose got to Kings Cross an hour early. The platform was empty when they arrived, so Rose and Grim played one last game of tug of war before claiming a compartment for themselves and Rose's friends.

The pair ended up sitting with Hermione, Ginny, the twins, and Lee Jordan. Everyone loved her dog.

"Where did you get him?" Ginny squealed, dropping down to scratch his ears. "He's adorable!"

"He was a stray. He just showed up in the Dursley's yard whining for me to give him a bath."

Ginny cooed, and Grim's tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Hermione had gotten a funny looking orange cat for herself as a birthday present, and the girls were both relieved that Grim and Crookshanks seemed to approve of each other. It could have been ugly otherwise.

Everyone calmed down about wanting to pet Grim halfway through the trip to Hogwarts. Hermione was reading, Rose was dozing, and the rest were playing Snap. Grim curled up at Rose's feet and slept.

The train slowing to a halt woke Rose up.

"We can't be there yet," Hermione said. They peered outside, but couldn't see much, as it was dark and raining heavily.

"What do you suppose—" The lights went out, plunging the train into total darkness.

Rose felt Grim get to his feet, and she reached out a hand to calm him. His hackles were raised, and he growled low in his throat.

"Why is Grim upset?" one of the twins asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Rose whispered. She could think of one reason…  _But_ , she reminded herself,  _Grim is a_ dog _. He doesn't know that Sirius Black wants you dead_.

But it wasn't Sirius Black at all. It was something worse.

:: :: :: ::

"Rose! Rose! Are you all right?"

Rose moaned, and opened her eyes. She felt cold and clammy, and vaguely like she might throw up. The strange man bent over her, shaking her shoulders, was not helping the situation.

"Why am I on the floor?" she moaned. "And who are you?"

He smiled wanly. "I'm Professor Lupin. Are you feeling all right?"

Rose slowly sat up. "Not really. What happened?" She looked around at her friends, noticing that Ginny was trembling and wrapped up between Fred and George. "Where's that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed, Rose," said Hermione, looking pale and shaky herself. "You fell out of your seat. You were having some kind of fit, and then you fainted. I went to get help, and found Professor Lupin."

"Oh."

Grim licked her face, and Rose hugged him around his neck. He was shaking horribly. "What's wrong, Grimmy? Did that thing scare you too?"

Rose looked up and noticed that Professor Lupin was looking oddly at her dog. Rose hugged him tighter. Maybe he thought she shouldn't have a dog, as they weren't an approved pet, but Rose had permission. So if Lupin had a problem he could just stuff it.

The professor immediately redeemed himself by passing around chocolates, saying it would help, and left to go speak to the conductor.

He did, however, frown once more at Grim and Rose, as though something about the scene worried him.

:: :: :: ::

For reasons Rose could not fathom, Pansy Parkinson hated her guts.

"I heard you  _fainted_  on the train," the Slytherin girl said, as they were fixing their make up and hair after lunch in the girls' loo. Pansy smirked at her in the mirror. "Guess some people just can't live up to their hype."

Rose breathed slowly through her nose, and reminded herself that fighting wasn't ladylike. Instead she said, in the coolest tone she could muster, "You've got something in your teeth."

Pansy hadn't really, but watching the girl flush and surreptitiously check for bits of food was satisfying in itself.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins had their first Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid that afternoon. Rose was excited about it, both because it was Hagrid's first ever class and because she would get to see Grim.

She went down early with Hermione, and Grim gamboled around them barking happily. The girls played tug of war with him until the other students began ambling down the hill towards Hagrid's hut.

"Is that your dog?" Draco asked, frowning at Grim. "He looks different."

"He got a hair cut," Rose explained.

"Ah, that's it," he said with a smirk. "Now he looks more like a proper dog, and less like a wild beast."

Grim growled at Draco. Rose laughed and patted his head. "Doesn't he? He looks almost respectable now."

"Still a beast on the inside though," Draco muttered, edging away because Grim was showing his teeth.

Hagrid began his lecture, and Hermione moved closer. Draco held Rose back.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" he said.

Rose shook her head, and voiced the resentment she'd had burning in her heart since Draco had sent the letter. "What I can't believe is that no one else has told me. I mean, my  _godfather_  has escaped from jail, and is trying to finish the job he started when I was a baby. You'd think  _someone_  would think I need to know that."

"I don't think it's common knowledge," Draco said. "Not many people know that Black is your godfather, or what he did to your family. All the public knows is that Black killed all those Muggles, and revealed that he was the Dark Lord's follower. My mum said it was a scandal. People liked Black, and then he turned out to be a traitor."

"All right," said Rose, "so it's not in any of the history books, but you can't tell me that the teachers don't know. Hagrid nearly sobbed when he saw me get off the train. I know he knows."

Draco shrugged.

"How do you know all of this anyway, if it isn't common knowledge?"

"My father is very influential in the Ministry, and hears all the news, and my mother, well—" he grinned, "—she's a gossip."

Rose and Draco wound up partnered for that class, and Draco nearly got himself eviscerated by the hippogriff, but Grim knocked them both out of the way and Buckbeak's claws only rent the air.

"I love your dog," Draco said fervently as the adrenaline faded away, and Hagrid wrestled the hippogriff into submission.

Grim wuffed unhappily.

:: :: :: ::

When Rose wasn't in class, studying, or playing with Grim, she was preparing for Little Miss England.

Up until now, her secret life as a beauty queen had only been known to a select few, but Lavender had taken it upon herself to train Rose at every available moment, and soon her secret was out.

She heard mutterings from the other girls about how it wasn't enough for Rose that she was the Girl Who Lived, but she needed a crown too. Pansy Parkinson was especially vicious, but not especially creative in her insults. She began addressing Rose as 'Fame Junkie', 'Attention Whore', and 'Princess Potter'.

"What is her problem?" Rose growled.

"She has a crush on Draco Malfoy," said Ginny.

"Oh. Does she not like that we're…" Rose struggled to find a world that described her relationship to Draco. He wasn't a friend exactly, and she was still mad at him for never apologizing to Hermione last year, but they got on now. "…acquaintances?"

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, Rose.  _That's_  why."

It was just Rose's luck that Sirius Black chose Halloween to invade Hogwarts and attack the Fat Lady. The students were gathered in the Great Hall while the teachers searched the castle for him, and Rose tried to breathe normally so as not to let her friends know she was terrified.

Draco watched her from across the Great Hall, and mouthed,  _Tell them_.

She shook her head. This wasn't something her friends needed to worry about. Ginny had only just stopped having nightmares about what had happened last year, and there was something wrong with Hermione. She was constantly stressed about homework, and buried in books. Her friends did not need to bear the additional weight of Sirius Black's desire to kill Rose.

And really, Rose thought grimly, someone wanting her dead was just business as usual.

The next day, Professor McGonagall called Rose to her office and told her that she may not be allowed to leave the castle for the pageant.

"No, Professor!" Rose protested. "I have to go! You don't understand. My aunt will never forgive me if I don't compete."

"Miss Potter," she said gently, "I understand this is important to you, but you are in especial danger from Sirius Black. He seems to—"

"He wants me dead," Rose said hurriedly, waving this concern away, and ignoring McGonagall's baffled look. "Yes, I know. But look at it this way, he wanted me dead this summer too, and I was perfectly fine. It's only now that I'm at Hogwarts that he knows where to find me. Black will never think of looking for me in London at a beauty pageant!"

McGonagall buried her surprise at Rose knowing the awful truth, and now was frowning sternly at her. "Miss Potter, I will not have you putting your life in danger for something as silly as a beauty contest!"

Rose blinked away the sudden sting of tears. She knew how other people saw it. Beauty pageants were for the silly and shallow, they exploited the contestants, and undermined the efforts towards equality of the sexes. What no one seemed to understand was that her experience from competing in these stupid things was the only reason that Rose was not crushed under the weight of her fame in the wizarding world. The pageants had given her the confidence and the knowledge she needed to make her life in the wizarding world bearable. She shuddered to think of how she might have reacted to it all if she hadn't been so well trained to handle attention.

Plus, she liked the rush of performing on stage. It was twice as good as playing Quidditch, but not quite as good as flying.

She had tried reasoning, but now it was clearly time to go on the offensive. "You can't keep me here," she said. "My aunt wants me to come home, and as she is my legal guardian, I have to do as she says."

"Your aunt does not understand the situation," McGonagall snapped.

"She understands perfectly!" Rose said, rising from her chair. "She was the one who told me that Black was my father's best friend! That he was the best man at my parent's wedding! That—that  _man_  is my  _godfather_ , and the reason my mum and dad are dead – and no one told me! Not even when they knew my life was in danger!" Rose knew she should stop, but now that the words, and the anger, and the broken trust were flowing out, she couldn't stop them. "Why is it that you seem to care so much now, but I was left scared and helpless all summer with my Muggle relatives, and only a  _dog_  to protect me from a crazed murderer?"

"You were safe with your relatives," the professor began.

"How was I safe?" Rose demanded. "They're Muggles! What are they going to do against a man with a wand?"

"Miss Potter, I understand why you are upset, and you have every right to be. The Ministry should have informed your relatives and yourself of the situation, but we had been led to believe that your relatives preferred not to have much contact with the wizarding world, so I believe they opted to offer a less noticeable method of protection for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there were Aurors watching your neighborhood this summer."

"Oh," Rose said softly, and sat down, suddenly feeling silly. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Professor."

McGonagall sighed. "I take it you still wish to participate in this pageant?" Rose nodded. "Very well. I will speak to the Headmaster, and we will see if we can make arrangements with the Auror office for some protection."

"Thank you, Professor."

:: :: :: ::

It wasn't just Sirius Black wanting to kill her, Rose discovered during Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year. The dementors didn't think too much of her continued existence either.

The game hadn't started out too badly.

Sure, it was freezing, and the rain was coming down in sheets, and Rose couldn't even walk in a straight line across the pitch because the wind was blowing so hard. But Rose felt warm all the way down to her toes when the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory, smiled ruefully at her, and commented on the miserable weather and their slim chances of catching the Snitch in it.

 _When did Diggory get so cute?_  Rose wondered.

Sooner than she would have liked, the warm glow had worn off, and she was soaked to the skin and freezing.

Rose had no idea what the score was. She couldn't hear Lee's voice over the wind and thunder. But Rose didn't care what the score was. She wanted to catch the Snitch so they could all go back inside the castle.

Rose flew past the Gryffindor stands, and noticed that Ginny and Hermione had Grim sitting between them. The girls were yelling and pointing at something. Rose followed the direction and noticed that Diggory was chasing the Snitch!

She tore after him, but suddenly it was cold. Much too cold, and Rose took her eyes off the Snitch, and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors, their cloaked faces pointing up at her, were standing beneath her on the pitch.

Rose felt dizzy. There was that screaming again. A woman screaming inside her head… Screaming Rose's name. She was falling, and the woman was screaming, and someone was laughing in a horrible high voice…

:: :: :: ::

It was too much. She had nearly died. She had lost her first Quidditch match. And now this.

"I'm sorry, Rose," Ginny said, and put the bag that contained the mangled remains of her broom on her lap.

"'s just a broom," she said. Her voice was choked. Ginny handed her a tissue.

It was only Ginny, Hermione and Grim with Rose in the infirmary now. The whole Quidditch team had been by earlier to tell her the awful news (that she was a loser), and Cedric Diggory came by and told her he was sorry that he'd caught the Snitch, and didn't think it was fair.

Cedric's visit warmed her all the way to her toes again, and she was able to smile and assure him that he'd won fair and square. Grim had growled slightly at Cedric (he didn't seem to like him any more than he liked Draco), which made the Hufflepuff hastily deliver his wishes that she get better soon.

Grim had refused to budge when Madam Pomfrey tried to order him out, and was now lying at the foot of Rose's hospital bed and looking at her with worried eyes.

"I'm going to have to quit Quidditch, aren't I?"

"What?" said Ginny. "No! You will not. We just need to figure something out…" They looked to Hermione for suggestions.

"I'm sure there's some defense against dementors, but I don't know it. You should ask Professor Lupin."

Grim wuffed in agreement.

:: :: :: ::

But Rose didn't have the time to worry about dementors, because Little Miss England was upon her.

She was to have two Aurors following her at all times, though she wouldn't always know they were around. One was a scary looking, heavily scared man called Mad-Eye Moody, and she fervently hoped her Aunt Petunia would never catch sight of him. He was gruff and disdainful that Rose was risking her safety for a beauty pageant.

The other was a third year Auror trainee named Nymphadora Tonks. She had pink hair and sweet face, and Rose liked her immediately.

"While we're at the pageant I'll be with you at all times," Tonks said. "I'm so excited! I've never been to a beauty pageant before, and this time I'll be able to be backstage!"

Rose grinned. "It's really not that exciting. It's mostly panicking girls and their panicking mothers making a lot of noise." But Tonks didn't seem to care.

They took the Hogwarts Express to London, and a Ministry car to Little Winging. Grim was happy to get out of the car when they arrived, and rolled around on the grass. She had brought Grim along, because he was due for a trip to the groomer, and because Rose didn't want to go back to the Dursley's alone.

The week before the pageant was torture. Rose needed to be fitted for her outfits, and hairstyles had to be decided on, and Aunt Petunia grilled her on the question and answer section, and she sang the song she was going to perform over and over and over again.

Regularly, Rose was reduced to tears, and spent most of those nights hugging Grim, and reminding herself how much  _she_  wanted to win.

It was hell.

But all worth it in the end.

:: :: :: ::

Rose arrived back at Hogwarts that Sunday evening, and went up to Gryffindor Tower with Grim in tow. She didn't care that he wasn't allowed. She would take him back to Hagrid's later.

She skipped merrily through the portrait hole, and found all the Gryffindors waiting for her in the common room. She and Grim stopped short and blinked at the crowded common room.

"Well?" Lavender demanded.

Rose grinned cheekily, and pulled out the crown she had hidden from behind her back, and plopped it on her head.

"I won," she said simply.

The place erupted in cheers and whistles, and Rose was mobbed by Lavender, Parvati, Hermione and Ginny. Rose hadn't realized that her housemates were so aware that she was competing for Little Miss England, but she supposed she had been practicing singing loudly enough in the common room for the past two months, so it was perhaps difficult for them not to have noticed.

Rose looked around for Grim, worried for him in the sudden celebration, and she saw the exact moment when he changed, and wasn't able to make a sound as the cheers for Rose turned into screams of terror.

"Sirius Black!" someone screamed, and people began backing away and fleeing up the staircases.

Where Grim once stood was now a man. He was tall and thin, and his dark hair was cut short. He had a fierce look in his eye as he went for Ron Weasley.

Ron was yelling nonsense, "No! No! Hey, no!" But Black wasn't after Ron; he was after his pet rat. Black grabbed the rat in one hand with a shout of triumph, and Ron's wand with the other. He stunned the struggling rat, and backed towards the door, holding Ron's wand out, where Rose was standing stock-still.

She couldn't move. Black was here and he was going to kill her.

No, Black had been here all along.

The sound around her made no sense. It was just a wash of white noise that Rose couldn't understand. She didn't even struggle when he wrapped an arm over her and pulled her to his chest, and backed them out the portrait hole.


	4. Year Three, Part 2

The portrait swung shut, and Black sealed it with a spell.

"Rosie," he said, his voice was scratchy and odd. "Are you all right? Come along with me now."

At that she came to her senses. "No! Get away from me!" she cried. "What did you do to my dog?" She went for her wand, but it wasn't in her pocket.

She looked up, and Black waved his hand, which now held two wands. "You're coming with me, and I really don't want to have to immobilize you."

He dropped the rat into a pocket of his tattered robes, and pushed her lightly. "Walk."

"What happened to Grim?" Rose asked fearfully.

"Rose, Grim is fine," he said impatiently. " _I'm_  Grim, for Merlin's sake. You saw me change."

Rose considered this. "You mean, for all these months I've been playing tug of war, and crying all over the man who killed my parents?"

Black sighed. "Oh, Rosie."

They didn't say anything for a while. Rose was choking on feelings of utter betrayal. Her dog, her most loyal, steadfast friend… was not.

"Where are we going?"

"Dumbledore's office."

"Why?" she asked shrilly. "Do you want to kill him too?"

He chuckled darkly. "Not at all. He's going to help me. Help us, really."

Rose didn't like the sound of this. If she were a murderer who had just taken hostage her victim of choice, she wouldn't have headed right for the most powerful wizard in the vicinity who was likely to stop her, which meant that Black had a  _plan_.

They arrived at the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office without meeting anyone else along the way.

"Start listing off candies," he ordered, and began rattling some off himself.

"Uh, cockroach clusters," she said.

"I already said that one."

"Chocolate Frogs."

"Fizzing Whizzbies."

"Mars Bars."

"Blood Pops."

"Acid Pops."

The gargoyle moved aside, and Black pushed her up onto the moving staircase. "Good job," he said.

"Yeah, thanks, I just got a murderer into the Headmaster's office. They should give me house points."

Black chuckled. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Professor Lupin were waiting in the office with their wands drawn. Rose whimpered and tried to shrink back, but Black moved her so she presented more of a shield.

"Let her go!" Lupin yelled.

"Wait, Remus!" Black said. "Just  _wait_." He reached into his pocket, and held out Ron's rat in his hand for all to see.

"Clearly, Black is mad, Headmaster," Snape hissed.

But the rat seemed to mean  _something_  to Professor Lupin, because he wavered like his knees had gone wobbly. "Is that…" he said slowly.

"Yes," said Black.

There was a long, strained silence in the room, like the situation was teetering on knife's edge.

"Put him on the floor," Lupin said. Black tossed the rat onto the rug. It rolled, limbs flailing. Rose knew it was only stunned, but it looked dead.

Only Snape had kept his attention on Black, for which Rose was grateful. McGonagall and Dumbledore were looking between the rat and Lupin. He cast a spell that Rose had never heard before, and like when Grim had transformed into Black, Ron's rat turned into a man. A rather ugly man, Rose thought. He lay stunned and prone on the carpet.

"Oh, my Lord," McGonagall murmured.

Dumbledore blinked.

Lupin had to sit down.

Snape, though, narrowed his eyes and kept his wand trained on Black. What was a revelation for some changed nothing for Snape.

Rose was feeling a little left out. She turned her head towards Black, as he seemed to be the only person who was able to answer at the moment, and asked, "What's the deal with rat man?"

" _That_ ," he said darkly, "is the man who killed your parents."

:: :: :: ::

Rose had the feeling she had acted embarrassingly rapt as she listened to Sirius Black's true tale of what happened twelve years ago. She'd sat beside him on the couch Dumbledore had conjured up, and couldn't take her eyes off him.

"I'll be honest," he said finally. "I had intended to kill him, to finally commit the murder I'd been imprisoned for, but—" he looked at Rose, "—but when I came to see you at the Dursley's you were so miserable, Rosie, and that's my fault. I was supposed to be there for you, and I wasn't. Your mum and dad trusted me to take care of you, and I failed you twice. I wasn't going to do it again."

Rose felt tears sting her eyes.

"And there's all these…  _boys_  following you around! Someone has to keep the little buggers away. Like that Draco Malfoy," he said, sounding very stern and godfatherly, "what are you doing with him?"

She snorted, amused. "Nothing. He's a friend. I think."

Sirius shook his head. "That's what you think, but I'll tell you now, Draco Malfoy is thinking something entirely different. And that Diggory boy is way too old for you, so don't even think about it!"

Rose laughed, but made no promises.

:: :: :: ::

Dumbledore suggested Sirius keep up his disguise as Rose's dog until his name was cleared.

It turned out that none of the Gryffindors had seen Grim change into Sirius. They only thought Sirius had appeared in their midst – which rather fitted with the preternatural darkness the wizarding world had ascribed him.

Dumbledore delivered Peter Pettigrew to the Aurors, and the wizarding world was in an uproar. The newspapers reflected the mixed feelings of the population. Many couldn't believe that Sirius Black was innocent. Others were outraged at the Ministry for imprisoning an innocent man. And still others wanted to see Peter Pettigrew receive the Dementor's Kiss.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, Rose used the Invisibility Cloak more than she ever had before. Sirius wanted to show her every secret passage he'd ever found at Hogwarts, and they spent hours wandering the castle, hiding from Filch, and Sirius told her story after story about her mum and dad.

Eventually, Sirius reminded her about her intention to ask Professor Lupin for help defending herself against the dementors. They were still on the prowl for Sirius, as his innocence hadn't been officially proven yet, so were still a threat for the time being.

"Are you sure he won't mind?" Rose asked, as they approached Lupin's quarters late one Friday night.

"Remus would have been named your second godfather if such a thing was legal," Sirius said, waving her worries away. "He'd do anything for you."

Remus opened his door and blinked at the seemingly empty corridor. "Why does this seem eerily familiar?" he asked dryly.

Sirius's laugh was like a bark, and Remus smiled wryly and stepped aside to let them in. Sirius whipped the cloak off of himself and Rose.

Remus frowned at Rose. "It's after curfew, young lady."

"Sirius said it was okay," Rose said. Remus snorted.

"She was a sweet, obedient girl before you came along," he said to Sirius.

"I was never!" Rose said in mock outrage, and they laughed.

Sirius explained why they'd made the visit. "I'd teach her myself, but I can't manage the charm anymore." He sounded wounded. Remus grimaced.

"Well, we can give it a shot. The Patronus Charm may be beyond your ability, Rose. It's a NEWT level charm, and some adults never manage it."

"I want to try," she said. "I don't want to fall off my broom again."

They both shuddered. "No, we don't want that."

Rose didn't manage the charm that first night, but she produced some silvery vapor that Remus said was a very good start. And so, anti-dementor lessons began.

:: :: :: ::

Grim, or Padfoot as he was properly called (to this Rose had said, "Sorry, no. You'll always be Grim to me."), was frequently seen around school with Professor Lupin and now lived in his quarters. People were starting to question just who Rose's dog belonged to.

"He likes Professor Lupin," was all Rose would say when asked. "I don't mind." And she didn't. She'd lost her dog, but gained a godfather, so she was happy.

Of course, no one knew that Grim and Sirius Black were one in the same. Rose had only told Ginny and Hermione.

"You mean, I cuddled and cooed over your godfather?" Ginny asked, going red.

"Don't worry, Gin. I cried in his fur, and gave him baths. Which of us should be more embarrassed?"

Ginny laughed at her.

:: :: :: ::

Rose decided that Christmas was the best one she'd ever had.

Grim dragged her out of bed at the crack of dawn, Rose sleepily demanding to know how he'd gotten inside the Tower. He wuffed urgently.

"Fine, fine," Rose grumbled. "I need to get dressed. Get outta here."

Rose followed Grim out of the Tower, bemused, and knocked when prompted by Grim on Remus's door. Once inside, Sirius changed back and yanked her into a huge hug.

"Happy Christmas!" he bellowed.

Remus, looking as though he'd been dragged from bed as well, smiled and rolled his eyes at Sirius's enthusiasm.

There was a breakfast spread on the coffee table, and Sirius settled her in front of it, and urged her to eat, but before she could even take a sip of tea, he changed his mind.

"No, no, I just can't wait," he said, and pulled out a long wrapped present from behind the sofa. "You have to open it now."

"Sirius, you didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did!" He put it in her lap. "Open it. I can't wait to see your face."

Rose smiled, already beyond pleased that she was spending Christmas morning with  _family_ , and began to oh, so slowly to tear the paper.

Sirius moaned in feigned agitation, and she and Remus exchanged smirks.

"All right, all right," she laughed, and ripped enthusiastically. She had only revealed a portion of the gift, but her eyes widened impossibly in recognition, and she tore the rest of the paper away, just as eager as Sirius to get it open. "Oh, my God," she whispered.

Rose reverently ran her hands over the broom, taking in the pale ash handle with such a shiny finish, and the word, 'Firebolt', engraved in gold.

"A Firebolt," she said. "You got me a  _Firebolt?_ "

Sirius was grinning at her. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Rose threw her arms around Sirius's neck. "I can't believe—It's the most perfect—oh, thank you!"

He laughed, and hugged her tight. "I knew you'd like it. Happy Christmas, Rosie."

:: :: :: ::

Word got out quickly that Rose had gotten a Firebolt for Christmas. Oliver Wood wouldn't stop bragging about how unbeatable Gryffindor would be with Rose Potter on a Firebolt.

Naturally, Draco Malfoy had to investigate. He cornered her after Quidditch practice.

Rose thought he might be choking on jealousy as he looked at nothing but her broom and said, "Well, how is it?"

"It's… it's…" She wanted to say that it was fantastic, and that he would never have a chance of catching her on it – because it was the truth – but couldn't bring herself to be so cruel.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is."

"How fast is it?"

"It makes me feel like I could out fly the wind," she said baldly. No use sugar coating it, when Draco wanted to feel miserable and left out. His mouth twisted, and Rose thought that if they didn't get along now that he'd be saying some really terrible things to her. Draco was like that.

"Do you want to try it?" she asked.

His face lit up, and he finally looked at her and not the broom. "Can I?"

Rose nodded, biting down on her lip to stop herself from smiling. She handed him the broom, and was pleased that he handled it just as reverently as she did. "Don't crash it."

"Crash it?" he said, appalled. "I would never, Potter."

Rose sat on the grass of the pitch and watched as Draco flew, shouting at the speed and fine handling and quick turns. "It's brilliant!" he yelled joyfully. Rose laughed and lay back on the ground, knowing that it would be a long while before Draco came down.

:: :: :: ::

The Daily Prophet reported that the Ministry had announced the date of Peter Pettigrew's trial. It would not take place until the end of May, four months away.

"Why is it taking so long?" Rose asked that evening in Remus's sitting room.

"It's because of Amelia Bones," Remus said, fixing her a cup of tea. Sirius was still ranting and pacing, but Remus had put him under a silencing charm when he couldn't seem to stop cursing, even though Rose had arrived. "She wasn't Head of the DMLE when the Death Eater's were on trial after the last war. The trials were a joke, really, but not many questioned them because everyone was so certain of their guilt. Sirius didn't even get a trial…" Remus looked far away for a moment, and then shook his head. "I think she wants to be absolutely certain that the Wizengamot doesn't miss anything this time."

"I suppose that's good," Rose said reluctantly. "I just want him to be free." She watched Sirius pace. He wasn't yelling now, but he looked like he could start at any moment. It wasn't fair that Sirius had to live like this: only free to go where he pleased as a dog, and he could only be human when he was safely locked up in Remus's rooms.

"It won't be long, Rose," Remus said. "The wizarding world knows that he's innocent, and it will be made official at Peter's trial. And after that, well," he smiled, "Sirius has been looking at homes for sale in the Prophet, but he wanted your help."

"What?" Rose said blankly.

"He didn't know whether you'd rather live in town or the country. I think he found a few he liked…"

But Rose had gotten up, and planted herself in front of Sirius. She didn't know what she was feeling – sort of cold and warm at the same time – and gestured for Sirius to stop his angry pacing.

"What?" he said, though she couldn't hear him.

"I'm going to… I can live with you?"

He gave her a look that said she was daft, and started to speak. Rose shook her head, and Sirius gestured impatiently at Remus to lift the spell. "Of course you're going to live with me, you silly girl. You think I'd leave you with the Dursleys?"

"Oh! Sirius, thank you! Thank you!" Rose threw her arms around him. "I want to live in town."

Sirius laughed at her and rolled his eyes. "Stupid," he said affectionately. "Whatever you like."

:: :: :: ::

"I thought you lot were meant to be clever," Rose said. She lit on the ground, Snitch in hand, and grinned at the sight the Slytherin Quidditch team made – in a sprawled, sad pile of dark robes – "I think the Sorting Hat must have been confused."

Draco scrambled from the pile, stepping on Flint as he did so. "I told them you wouldn't fall for it," he protested quickly. Rose rolled her eyes.

"What was that  _thing?_ " Warrington asked, his voice shrill. "It looked like a ghost deer, but it bowled us right over!"

"Did it?" Rose asked excitedly. She'd never gotten the Patronus spell quite right, and hadn't been able to watch this attempt, as she'd been busy beating Cho Chang to the Snitch.

"It had antlers," Draco said, trembling slightly. "I thought it was going to gore me."

McGonagall bustled forward and began shrieking at the Slytherins, giving detentions and taking fifty points.

Rose smiled. "Ta, boys."

:: :: :: ::

Fred and George's sixteenth birthday fell on a Friday.

Rose tried to get Hermione to come along with her and Ginny to their birthday party, but Hermione was once again buried in books, and very annoyed at Rose for distracting her. "I can't!" she said shrilly. "I've three essays due next week, and a hundred pages to read for History of Magic. I have to study, Rose!"

"Okay, okay. Just breathe, 'Mione." Hermione had teared up. "The common room will be quiet, because all the upper years will be at the party, so it will be fine. You'll get it done. Do you want me to get you some tea?"

"No, no," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm fine. Just go."

"If you're sure…"

Rose was worried about her friend. She'd been spending far too much time in the library, and paying no attention to anything around her unless it related to class. Rose was sure Hermione was going to crack soon, but she didn't know why. Rose was taking Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes with Hermione, and Rose wasn't buckling under the weight of her homework… far from it. She could only assume that Hermione was spending her time in the library researching something else, but didn't know why her friend hadn't told her anything about it.

"Yes. Have fun." And Hermione bent over her essay once more, completely tuning out the world.

Rose and Ginny used the Invisibility Cloak to get to Myrtle's bathroom. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was open (Rose had taught the twins how to say 'open' in Parseltongue two weeks prior), and carefully traversed the newly created staircase to the bottom.

"I can't believe they wanted to have their party here," Ginny said. "They're so… morbid."

"I know," Rose agreed, "but the teachers will never find out about it, and everyone can be as loud as they like."

"I just hope they got rid of the basilisk."

Rose shivered. "Me too." But knowing the twins, they might have turned it into a water slide.

They hadn't. The Chamber was lit with millions of fairy lights, and decorated with streamers and balloons. Someone had painted, 'Happy Birthday Gred and Forge' all across the statue of Salazar Slytherin in flashing purple paint. The floor had been charmed to look like white and black glass, which lit up different colors when the white blocks were stood on. Loud rock music was pulsing from the very walls.

"I guess they did get rid of it," Ginny said.

Rose didn't want to say, but she thought the curving sectional sofa winding along one side of the room looked a bit… snakelike. She made a mental note to avoid it.

"It's kind of… cool in here," Ginny said, beginning to grin.

"It is," Rose agreed, grinning back.

What was really cool was that they were the only two students below fourth year who'd been invited to the party.

Ginny grabbed two bottles of butterbeer from a tray carried by a house elf, and the girls clinked bottles. "Here's to being cool," Ginny said.

"Here, here."

The twins had invited most of the school, it seemed. Rose even saw a few Slytherins, though none from the Quidditch team. She didn't think the twins even got on with any Slytherins. Rose was a bit of an anomaly when it came to Gryffindors – everyone thought it was strange that she was friendly with Draco Malfoy (the most Slytherin of them all), but Rose couldn't help it any longer. Draco was like a fungus; he grew on you so as you wouldn't notice until it was too late to get rid of him.

Rose and Ginny stuck together through the party. They danced and chatted with people they knew, and when a drunk Eddie Carmichael, a fourth year Ravenclaw, tried to grope Rose on the dance floor, George pulled him off, and claimed that dance was his.

"Thanks," she said, shaking off the lingering feeling of Eddie's wandering hands.

"Not a problem," George said. "I should have been keeping a closer eye on you, but Lee was having a problem with the music, and… Well, I'm sorry."

"I could have handled it!" she said.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. That Carmichael git has no idea how to treat a girl."

"Are you and Fred trying to keep the boys away from us?" she demanded. She and Ginny had been talking to Cedric earlier, and hadn't thought much of it when Lee had called him away with a question about something, but now… "I can understand the protective big brother routine with Ginny, but I'm not your sister! And you'd better hope Ginny doesn't realize—"

"Oh, Merlin, please don't tell her!" he said. Rose snorted. The twins were afraid of exactly one thing, and that was Ginny in a strop. She was known to fling hexes. "And I don't think of you as a sister, Rosie Posey."

Rose decided to let it go. It  _was_  sort of sweet that they'd decided to look after their sister and her friend. It was the first party she and Ginny had ever been to, after all.

"Are you having a good birthday?" Rose asked.

He grinned. "It's great. Next year will be even bigger, I'd wager, since we'll be coming of age, and all."

"I don't know how you'll top this," she said. "You even have a one-of-a-kind basilisk skin sofa."

He grimaced. "You noticed that?"

"Kind of hard not to."

"We tried to vanish it, but the spells wouldn't take. I think the basilisk has too much magic of its own, so we just transfigured it. I kind of like it. I mean, we  _slayed_  that thing, Rose! It's like a trophy sofa."

She laughed. " _Hedwig_  slayed it."

"Fred and I are going to cut it up and sell the bits off to the apothecaries. Basilisk bits are very rare, so we'll be  _quite_  rich. You, Gin and Ron will get a cut, of course."

"Brilliant!" Rose was already quite rich, but the Weasleys were not, and she'd always felt that if any family deserved to have a vault full of gold it was them. "What will you do with your pile of gold?"

"Fred and I have a few ideas," he said mysteriously.

:: :: :: ::

Hermione broke the week before Easter hols.

She and Rose were walking down to Hagrid's for Care of Magical Creatures, a knot of Slytherins behind them. Rose didn't mind them much. The only one she really had a problem with was Pansy Parkinson, who was still beating the 'Princess Potter' thing to death.

"So, Princess Potter," she said, coming alongside Rose, "I heard that you were at the Weasley twin's party this weekend."

"I was," Rose said shortly.

"Oh, so it's true?" Pansy said gleefully, "I heard you snogged Eddie Carmichael  _and_  George Weasley, while making eyes at Cedric Diggory. I suppose you need a new name…" she mused. "I think I'll just call you ' _Slut_ '."

Rose clenched her jaw, but Hermione lost it. She whirled about Rose, and her hand went flying, and she slapped Pansy right across the face.

"You horrid, jealous  _bitch_ ," Hermione snarled. "Don't think no one knows why you pick on Rose, Parkinson, because it's so  _pathetically_  obvious. He'll  _never_  look at you twice, because you're a foul, jealous,  _pug_ - _nosed_  hag."

Pansy, hand pressed to her cheek and angry tears in her eyes, turned and ran past her classmates and up to the castle.

Everyone, Rose and the Slytherins, just stared at Hermione. Hermione ignored them all, tossed her hair, and calmly continued walking down to Hagrid's.

Rose realized she was gaping after her friend, and shut her mouth with a click.

"Wow," said Blaise Zabini. "What's with her?"

"I don't know," said Rose. "She  _swore_. Hermione never swears."

"You didn't really snog Carmichael and Weasley, did you?" asked Daphne Greengrass.

"No," Rose said. "I didn't kiss anybody." She had no defense for the Cedric Diggory thing. She couldn't  _help_  but look at him.

Draco had been strangely quiet. He was looking towards the castle, frowning after Pansy. "Remind me never to piss Granger off. She's vicious. Daphne, don't you think you'd better go after Pansy?"

Daphne sighed. "Sure, Draco, throw me to the wolves. Thanks. She's going to be a nightmare." But she set off after her friend anyway.

The rest of them began walking again, and Blaise said, "What dangerous creature do you think Hagrid will have today?"

"A Granger," Draco said, and snickered. The rest of them joined in.

Rose sighed. "I forgot for moment who I was with. Thank you for reminding me."

Hermione dropped Divination that day. Or rather, she threw a fit and stalked out, was how Lavender told it. She and Parvati were scandalized by Hermione's treatment of their favorite teacher. Hermione made no apologies.

:: :: :: ::

Gryffindor beat Slytherin in the last match of the year to win the Quidditch Cup. Rose was ecstatic, though it wasn't quite as good as winning Little Miss England.

Oliver Wood was beside himself with joy. He carried the trophy around during the party, and angrily refused the twins when they asked if he'd give it up so they could use it as a punch bowl.

Halfway through the party Draco came to the portrait hole with Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise, and demanded to be let in. The Gryffindors jeered at the interlopers, and Rose rolled her eyes at her housemates.

"What is so important that you'd brave Gryffindor Tower during our victory party?" she asked.

"I've come to propose a contest," Draco said. He had the attention of the whole room.

She smiled. "What sort of contest?"

"A race," he said.

"Draco, you know I'll win. No one else's broom is as fast as mine—"

"Ah, but you won't be flying the Firebolt," he said. "We'll both be on Nimbus 2001's. I want to know if you're faster than me, or if it's just your broom."

The Gryffindors were yelling out their assurances that Rose was just better, but she held up a hand to quiet them.

"Let's do it properly then. Get Chang and Diggory, and we'll see which Seeker in this school is the fastest."

Draco held out his hand. Rose shook. "Deal. Let's go."

"Now? It's dark."

"Are you a witch or not, Potter?"

Most of the school was gathered again in the Quidditch stands, and Rose and the other Seekers were currently glowing their respective house colors as they waited on the pitch. The team captains were deciding on the race course, and directing the Weasley twins in setting up floating markers in the air.

Lee had taken up the magical microphone again, and was taking advantage of not having McGonagall there to scold him about his language or his house bias.

"Welcome to the first annual Hogwarts Broom Races!" he said with the air of a ring announcer. "Tonight we have for you: the lovely Cho Chang of Ravenclaw, the girl-magnet of Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, the dastardly Draco Malfoy of Slytherin, and our Quidditch Queen, Little Miss England, Rose Potter of Gryffindor!"

Rose rolled her eyes.

"The winner will take home this lovely… crown." Lee held up a glowing white crown, which looked terribly familiar, if lit up with illuminating charms.

"Oi!" Rose yelled. "That's  _my_  crown!"

"Yes, ladies and gents, this is the crown Little Miss Rose won back in October. We thought it would give her a bit more incentive to win."

"You bastards!" she yelled.

Fred and George laughed at her from above. "We knew you weren't very motivated to win this one, Rosie. No slacking off now!"

Rose fumed, and gripped the Nimbus she had borrowed from Warrington tight between her fingers. They thought  _Ginny_  was scary when she was in a strop? They'd never seen Rose have one, then.

She glared and caught Draco smirking. Oh, there was no  _way_  she was going to let him win her crown.

The next morning at breakfast, Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, holding court as usual, but he was wearing a sparkling rhinestone tiara on his head.

"You look like a prat," said Rose.

"I'm sorry," he smirked, "but I've asked my subjects to refer to me as 'Your Highness' today. You'll want to abide by the customs, lest you be put in the stocks."

"Bugger off, Your Highness."

Rose forgave him when he came by Gryffindor Tower that evening to return her crown, unharmed. He set it carefully on her head. "There you are. Your Highness."

:: :: :: ::

Peter Pettigrew's trial finally began. Rose wanted to go, but Sirius and Remus were against it.

"It's a zoo, Rose," Sirius said. "Reporters and ex-Death Eaters, and Merlin knows what else. I don't want you to have to deal with that."

"And the trial will be ugly in itself," Remus added, with a significant look at Sirius. "The war was very… well, terrible things happened, Rose, and a lot of that will come up during the trial."

"Right," Sirius agreed.

So Rose had to read about Pettigrew's trial in the Daily Prophet just like everyone else.

Hermione was fascinated by it. She and Rose had little idea of how the wizarding legal system worked, and what Rose knew about the Muggle one was gleaned from television.

On the first day of the trial, the Daily Prophet reported that the Wizengamot had read out the list of charges compiled against Pettigrew, which the Auror department had filed through months and months of questioning. By this time, most of the wizarding world knew what he had done to Rose's family, and what he'd done to Sirius the following day, but his crimes prior to that were a mystery. Now they were all coming out.

He hadn't been as bad as most Death Eaters, they reported, having no kills to his name and few incidents of torture. Pettigrew had spent the last two years of the war playing both sides. He would definitely be going to Azkaban for the deaths of twelve Muggles, it was only a question of what his sentence would be: life in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss.

Rose thought they both sounded awful, but the Kiss… it was sick. She shuddered every time she thought about it.

There were no witnesses to Peter Pettigrew's crimes, aside from the last, because he'd been hooded and masked like every other Death Eater when they'd occurred. So the second day of the trial was a recitation of the incidents that Pettigrew had confessed to while in Auror custody.

This part of the trial went on for days.

Rose and the other students read the papers with their in depth articles, and often couldn't finish their breakfasts.

Peter Pettigrew had been responsible for giving Voldemort information that led to the torture and murder of the McKinnon family. He'd also participated in the attack. The Daily Prophet reported every gruesome detail, almost like they were gleeful about re-hashing the events of the war. It was almost as if now that the sting had gone out of it the wizarding world was  _entertained_  by the horror of it all.

Rose couldn't stomach it. When she spent the evenings with Sirius and Remus, her godfather was torn between cursing Pettigrew and cursing the Prophet. They, at least, were not entertained.

End of term exams came, and Rose threw herself into them, badly needing a distraction from the trial.

That Thursday at lunch, while Rose was frantically cramming for her Ancient Runes exam, something very wonderful happened.

"It's Black!" someone at the Hufflepuff table shrieked.

"Shut up," Rose heard Draco say, "He's innocent, you idiot."

Rose stood up, and looked at Sirius who was standing in the doorway, absolutely beaming, and holding a scroll in his fist. His eyes met Rose's, and he bounded over to her, pulled her into his arms, and whirled her in a circle.

"I'm free!" he yelled.

"You're free?"

"I'm free!"

Rose screamed happily, and hugged him. "I'm so happy!"

"Me too!"

Rose got the feeling they were making a spectacle of themselves, but did not care. She looked around for Remus, and found he had come down from the head table to join them. Sirius dropped her, and pulled Remus into an enthusiastic bear hug. And then hugged both of them at once.

"We'll go house hunting this weekend, yeah?" Sirius said, babbling. "You, me, and Remmy, because he's very particular about his books, and needs a proper library, and Merlin only knows what you want, Rosie, but I'm feeling very up to spoiling you rotten, so you'd best take advantage of it—"

Rose was so happy she couldn't speak.

She knew she'd done terribly on her Ancient Runes exam afterward, but couldn't bring herself to care.

:: :: :: ::

After Rose had processed it, she supposed she was due for some bad news.

The Daily Prophet reported that as the Wizengamot was reading Peter Pettigrew's sentence of life in Azkaban, he transformed into his Animagus form and escaped.

It was a scandal. The wards that were meant to prevent Pettigrew from turning into a rat had been dismantled, and no one knew who had done it. The wizarding world spun into a tizzy of outrage and panic, not unlike what had occurred when Sirius escaped from Azkaban.

House hunting was put on hold for the moment, because Sirius wanted to go out and look for the traitorous rat, and Rose and Remus were having a hard time convincing him not to. Eventually he listened to reason, but was then hesitant about taking Rose out to look for houses in London.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said.

"I really don't think Peter will be coming after Rose," Remus said to Sirius. "He's terrified of you, and certainly knows that you'd like nothing more than to kill him."

"I suppose you're right, Remus," he said with a feral grin.

"But you won't," Rose snapped. "I only just got you back, so don't you do anything to get yourself in trouble!"

Sirius softened. "Of course I won't, Rose. Who cares about that stupid rat, anyway?"

She snorted, knowing that he didn't really mean it, but allowed him to pull her into a hug.

Sirius and Remus went house hunting every day of Rose's last week of third year, and came back one day with pictures of their newly purchased house.

Rose gaped at the photos. If she hadn't already known that Sirius's family was filthy, stinking rich, this would have clinched it. "It's… huge."

Sirius grinned. "It's  _enormous_ , and this isn't even with wizard space. This is all Muggle."

"You're going to make it bigger?"

"Do you think we need to?" he asked worriedly.

"It's only the three of us, Sirius."

"Well, sure, but I thought you might want to invite Ginny and Hermione to visit over the summers, and this way everybody can have their own room."

Rose grinned. He really was a great godfather.

The house was lovely. The exterior was a traditional row house in a pale cream with white pillars bordering the front door, and balconies jutted from the first floor windows in elegant black iron. The interior was just as nice. It had large fireplaces and elaborate crown molding, and everything was airy and bright.

Rose loved it. They even had a garden.

"It's wonderful," she said, looking through the photos. To her dismay, she began to cry.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I love it! I'm just… really happy," she finished lamely. She didn't know how to explain how she felt about finally having a real family. To have Sirius and Remus who loved her like she was their own daughter, and not like Aunt Petunia at all, who always made Rose feel stupid and worthless, and yet still left Rose grasping for her affection.

"We'll have a good summer, yeah?" Sirius said.

"The best."


	5. Year Four, Part 1

"What is wrong with this thing?" Sirius growled.

"You've got to—" Rose snatched the television remote from his hand. "You're doing it wrong. You're going to screw everything up." She switched the telly from its game setting, and over to BBC1.

Rose had never been very knowledgeable when it came to technology, but as Sirius and Remus were even worse, it had been down to Rose to figure out how to hook up the telly with their various peripherals. Sirius had bought a VCR, a Super Nintendo, and a set of speakers. He'd put the boxes in front of Rose at the beginning of summer and told her to figure it out.

"Touchy," Sirius grouched.

It was just an average day in the Black, Lupin, Potter household. Remus had retreated to his study when Sirius had challenged Rose to a game of Super Mario. These matches always got ugly, because Rose was terrible at video games and they tended to bring out her rage. Sirius thought it was hilarious.

"Leave it," he said. "It's nearly time for dinner anyway."

"Where are we going today?"

He shrugged. "It's Remus's turn to choose."

The only problem they'd found with living together was that none of them could cook. On the other hand, none of them minded going out to dinner every meal.

Remus liked this tatty fish and chips place on Uxbridge Road, so Sirius Apparated over to fetch take away.

They sat around the kitchen table (they'd never used the dining room, though it was lovely), and Rose brought up the thing Ginny had mentioned in her last letter that she'd been hesitant to bring up.

"So, Ginny wrote me," she said, drizzling vinegar over her chips.

Sirius and Remus were rather like cavemen when they ate – they spoke only in grunts.

"Right, so, she said that her dad got tickets to the World Cup through work, and she invited me to go with them. Is that okay?"

That got their attention.

Sirius slapped a hand to his forehead. "The World Cup! I'd forgotten all about it."

"We have been living rather like Muggles lately," Remus reasoned. They didn't currently get the Daily Prophet, and were still waiting for the Floo Regulatory Committee to come by to hook up their fireplace to the Floo network. It didn't bother Rose, as she was used to spending her summers out of touch with the wizarding world.

"Who's playing again?" asked Sirius.

"I think it's Ireland and Bulgaria," said Remus.

"That's right. Bulgaria's got Krum, haven't they?"

"Yes. He's supposed to be very good."

Rose wondered if they were avoiding the question on purpose. "So, um, can I go?"

Sirius and Remus looked at her, and then each other. Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. "I—I suppose…"

"You don't mind?" she asked.

Rose almost didn't want to go – she wanted to go to the World Cup, obviously, she wanted to go so much it  _burned_  – but they were just getting into the swing of this 'being a family' thing, and it felt rude to go to the Weasley's house for a few days.

"You'll be back, right?" Sirius asked.

"Of course!" she said. "Ginny said I should stay the night before, because they're going to leave really early the day of the match, and it depends on how long the match goes, but I'll come home right after."

They both smiled when she said 'home', and Rose did too.

:: :: :: ::

The World Cup was brilliant. Rose loved it, and the match hadn't even started yet. She was sitting with the Weasleys in the top box of all places, trying to keep up with Ginny and Ron's running commentary on the players and how they'd match up.

"I don't care what you say about Krum, Ron," said Ginny. "I'm still rooting for Ireland. Their Chasers are  _good_."

"They're going to lose—" Ron began, and then sent a hot glare over Rose's shoulder.

Warm breath on her ear, and a familiar voice said, "Hey, Potter."

Rose, imbued with the high of being at the World Cup – which was the only excuse she would be able to come up with later – stood and threw her arms around Draco's neck. "Draco! What are you doing here?"

He laughed and patted her back. "What do you think I'm doing here? It's the World Cup. Come on, I want you to meet my parents."

Suddenly and unreasonably nervous, Rose let him lead her around the aisle – barely noting that the Weasleys were wearing expressions that varied from amused (Ginny) to outraged (Ron) to panicked (Mr. and Mrs. Weasley) – and over to a beautiful blond couple, who could only be Draco's parents.

He looked just like his father, she noticed, which could only be a good thing, because the elder Malfoy was pretty hot. Draco would age well.

"Mum, Father, this is Rose Potter. Rose, my parents."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

Mr. Malfoy looked torn between greeting her civilly, and asking Draco what the hell he was doing. Mrs. Malfoy looked bemused.

And then Rose noticed that Draco hadn't let go of her hand.

"It's lovely to meet you, Miss Potter," his mother said.

"Draco has told us much about you," Mr. Malfoy said, sounding pained.

"Though perhaps not everything," his mother said, raising an eyebrow at her son and moving her eyes to their clasped hands.

They let go immediately, both blushing hotly.

"So," Rose said, "who are you rooting for?"

Draco hopped on board her train of distraction. "Ireland, I think. But maybe Bulgaria. Mostly I want to see a bunch of fouls."

"You would," she said, smiling. "I just hope Lynch can give Krum a run for the Snitch. He seems almost too good."

Draco smirked at her. "You're one to talk."

"Draco says you're very good at Quidditch," his mother said.

"We did win the Cup this year."

"Yes," Mr. Malfoy said, tone long suffering. "We heard."

"But Draco beat all the Seekers in a straight broom race," she said with a wry smile, remembering the crown incident.

"We heard that too."

Rose wondered briefly what Mr. Malfoy's problem was. He didn't seem to  _dis_ like her, but seemed more resigned to her presence – and was not making an effort to mask his feelings.

"Rose, Draco's told me that you've moved to London with your godfather," Mrs. Malfoy said. "How is Sirius getting on?"

Rose knew that she meant, 'So, did he go crazy in Azkaban?' And truthfully, Sirius did wake her up with screaming nightmares occasionally, but Remus had told her that those months Sirius spent as Grim, and Rose's constant companion, had gone a long way to healing his mental wounds.

"He's well," she said instead. "We really enjoy living in London."

"Sirius is my cousin, you know," Mrs. Malfoy said. "I haven't spoken to him since…" she thought for a moment, "well, since I was married. I always quite admired him."

Mr. Malfoy frowned in disbelief at his wife.

Rose hadn't heard much about Sirius's family, but what she had heard wasn't good. Sirius hated the lot of them. "I didn't know that," she said carefully. "Shall I tell him you said hello?"

Mrs. Malfoy smiled, and Rose was taken aback by how beautiful she was. "I think you should. I would like to get in contact with him again."

"I think the match is starting," Mr. Malfoy said pointedly.

"Right. It was nice to meet you both," Rose said, and she wasn't completely lying. Draco's mother seemed nice enough.

Draco walked her back to her seat. "I'm sorry. That was awful. Wasn't that awful?"

"It was awful," Rose agreed.

"Let's meet up after the match. We're the tent with the black and white stripes, and the peacocks. You can't miss it. Bring your Weaslette."

"Don't call her that," Rose said, giving him a friendly elbow jab.

"Whatever you say, Princess Potter."

"Oh, don't you start."

He laughed, and went back to his seat.

Ginny nudged her when she sat down. "So?"

Rose realized that she was grinning and could not stop. "Nothing."

"Liar."

"Shut up."

Ginny laughed at her, and then they both shut up, because the match was starting.

:: :: :: ::

Mr. Weasley wouldn't let Rose and Ginny meet Draco after the match. His exact words were, "Absolutely not."

Ginny explained that her father and Mr. Malfoy hated each other, and also that Draco's father was widely regarded as a Death Eater who had gone free after the last war. "He claimed that he was under the Imperius Curse, but Dad thinks he was lying."

Rose frowned. She hadn't gotten the same sort of vibe off Lucius Malfoy that she'd gotten when she met Voldemort (either time). He didn't seem the type. She explained this to Ginny. "He seems petty, sure, and I think he'd probably be able to ruin someone without having a smidge of guilt, but I didn't get the murderer/torturer vibe off him."

Ginny shrugged. "All I know is that the Malfoys are one of those old Pureblood families that really buy into the Pureblood superiority thing, and that's what You Know Who's agenda was. Maybe Mr. Malfoy joined up before the murdering and torturing started."

"And then he was stuck?"

The girls agreed that this was possible.

"Draco must really like you," Ginny mused. "I mean, no offense, but his parents have at least two reasons that they wouldn't want their son to date you."

"We're just friends."

Ginny scoffed. "Maybe now, but Draco doesn't want it to stay that way."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, and stopped, because outside the tent people were screaming.

:: :: :: ::

Sirius and Remus were waiting for her at the Weasley's house when they got back from the World Cup.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius said, grabbing her and squeezing the air out of her. Remus was wearing that aged-ten-years look he normally only had around a full moon.

"I'm fine," she assured them.

She was nonetheless hustled away, calling hurried goodbyes to the Weasleys, and thanking them for inviting her. Neither Sirius nor Remus stopped fussing over her until she had showered, eaten dinner, and was finally tucked into bed that night. Like she was a child.

"Look, I'm fine!" she said for the hundredth time. "You can stop."

"We were just so worried when we heard," Remus said.

"We could have lost you, Rosie," Sirius said. He raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I would have—"

"But you didn't," she said. "I'm safe, and healthy, and happy, and up until the end I had a great time at the Cup. The Quidditch was amazing, I had fun with the Weasleys, I saw Draco and his parents—"

"You  _what?_ "

"Draco Malfoy was in the top box too," she explained. "He introduced me to his parents."

"You—Malfoys— _Lucius?_ " Sirius sputtered, clearly irate.

"Well, yes…"

Sirius made an angry noise and looked to Remus, who was looking rather worried himself. "Did they hurt you?" he demanded.

"No! Mrs. Malfoy told me to tell you she said hello."

" _Narcissa?_ "

"I guess… She's your cousin, right?" Sirius let out a roar, and began to pace. Rose knew it was bad if Sirius was pacing. "Is… is that… do you not like her?"

"Not like her? I can't stand her!"

"Oh."

"You've… Rose, you've got to stay away from that Malfoy kid. That whole family is dangerous."

"Draco isn't dangerous," she said. "I know you think he's 'sniffing' after me or something, but you're wrong! We're just friends, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head, and gestured at Remus. "You talk to her. I can't even—ugh!"

Remus didn't seem inclined to get in the middle though, because he didn't say anything.

"Look, Ginny told me about Mr. Malfoy and the Death Eater thing, but Draco isn't his father! He'd never hurt me." Rose knew this to be true like she knew the sky was blue. It just was.

Sirius moaned miserably, and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Merlin, why weren't you born a boy?" Remus let out a startled laugh, and Rose bristled.

" _Excuse_  me?"

"I used to tease James about this, remember, Moony? Now it's coming back to bite me in the arse."

That night Rose dreamed of Peter Pettigrew, Lord Voldemort, and a now very dead old Muggle man. She woke with a scream, and a burning pain in her curse scar. She clapped a hand to her forehead. She'd woken Sirius and Remus, who ran into her room, wands out.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was a dream." But Rose didn't have nightmares, so they were justly concerned.

"What did you dream about?" Remus asked.

"What's wrong with your head?" Sirius asked, gently pulling her hand away to get a look.

"I dreamed about…" she thought of lying, hating to worry them again, but was too tired to come up with anything. She tried instead to remember details from the dream, which were fading fast. "Pettigrew was in a dirty old room with… well, I'm pretty sure it was Voldemort. He was in a chair. He had his back to me. They were talking… Then there was a Muggle man, and Voldemort killed him, and then Pettigrew turned the chair around… and…"

"Your scar hurt?" Remus supplied.

"Yeah. And then I woke up."

Sirius and Remus exchanged loaded glances. Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "That would wake me up screaming too."

"It felt real," she said. "You don't think…"

"No," Sirius said immediately. "No way."

Remus didn't look nearly as certain. "I'll write to Dumbledore in the morning," he assured her. "If anyone understands how your scar works, it would be the headmaster."

:: :: :: ::

Sirius and Remus spent the last few days before Rose was to head back to Hogwarts spoiling her rotten. They took her shopping for school supplies, new clothes, and Rose got to choose where they had dinner every night.

It was the first time that she was sorry she had to go back to Hogwarts.

The three of them stood on Platform 9 ¾ looking miserably at the scarlet train.

"I guess you should get on it," Sirius said.

"Yeah," she replied, but didn't move.

Remus hugged her. "We'll miss you, Rose."

Rose blinked back tears. "Me too."

Sirius was looking at the sky, blinking rapidly. "You're coming back for Christmas," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I am," she agreed, and hugged him tight. He kissed the top of her head. "All right," he said. "Go on."

Her trunk and Hedwig's cage had already been loaded on, so it was just Rose feeling like she was trudging through treacle pudding to the train door. Two red-headed blurs assaulted her, wrapping arms around her waist and yanking her onto the train. The twins stopped in the doorway, and turned her around to wave.

"We'll take good care of her, Mr. Black!" Fred shouted, either ignoring or completely missing the dark frown on her godfather's face.

"She's in good hands, Professor Lupin!" George agreed, giving her a squeeze that made her squeak.

The train began to move, and Rose heard Sirius yell, "She's a damn boy-magnet!" to Remus, and then to Rose, "Stay away from those twins!"

:: :: :: ::

Rose and Ginny were waiting in the entrance hall for dinner to start, having yet another 'lively discussion' with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, who seemed to have taken a shine to Ginny.

"Your gamekeeper has really outdone himself this time, Potter," Draco drawled.

Rose wasn't any more a fan of the Blast-Ended Skrewts than Draco was, but she would defend Hagrid to the death.

"That's Professor Hagrid to you, Malfoy."

Draco barely concealed a scoff. Rose pinned him with a glare. "I'm just saying," he said holding up his hands, "that his choice of… training materials leaves a bit to be desired. And his lesson plans. And his general ideas regarding student safety. And—"

"Oh, shut up."

Rose turned her back on him, and heard Draco huff. And then a loud voice yelled, "OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

There was a loud bang, and Rose whirled around, having felt the spell breeze by her. Professor Moody was limping down the staircase. His wand was out, and he was pointing it at something… Rose looked down.

"Draco!" she screamed. Where Draco had once stood was now a pure white ferret, shivering on the stone floor.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving. "LEAVE IT!" Blaise froze, having bent down to pick Draco up.

Moody began to stomp towards them, and Draco squeaked and took off towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again – Draco flew ten feet in the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced once more.

Moody was yelling – something about not liking boys who pick on girls – but so was Rose. "Stop it! Stop it!" she shrieked, putting herself between Moody and Draco. "He wasn't doing anything to me, you crazy old—"

Rose felt Draco's new fur brush her leg, and she bent down to pick him up. "You leave him alone!"

And then Rose wasn't the only one yelling. Professor McGonagall had arrived. Rose cuddled Draco to her chest, relieved that he was alive and nothing seemed to be broken. "Oh, my God," she said to him, "are you okay?"

He squeaked miserably.

"Miss Potter, put Mr. Malfoy down!" McGonagall snapped.

Rose was reluctant to do so. Moody didn't look at all sane and she worried that he would try something, but McGonagall looked angry enough to spit, so she did.

A wave of her wand, and Draco was properly back – looking terrifically mussed and bruised. Rose helped him up, Draco glaring malevolently at Moody, who was going on about Draco getting a detention.

"He doesn't deserve a detention!" said Rose, struggling under Draco's arm as he leaned on her. "He didn't do anything, you psychotic—"

"Miss Potter!" said McGonagall. "That is enough. Help Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing."

Rose did, and scowled at Ginny who grinned merrily and gave her a thumbs up as they passed.

"What were you going to do to me anyway?" she asked Draco as they struggled along the hall to the hospital wing. She suspected that he didn't need to be leaning on her as much as he was, but wasn't going to tell him to stop. "When my back was turned."

He snorted, and then winced, holding his ribs. "I was going to pull your hair," he admitted.

"Oh, Malfoy," she said in a faux-moony voice, "You're such a bad arse."

He chuckled, and moaned. "Don't make me laugh, Rose. It hurts."

Rose got a detention for calling Moody 'psychotic', but she didn't care. She would do it again. Even after getting a letter from Sirius and Remus chastising her for disrespecting a teacher (Remus), and because her detention was given because she'd defended Draco (Sirius). That she'd gotten such a letter, and a proper scolding from her parents (or as good as) filled Rose with a warm fuzzy feeling, which she was certain was not what Remus and Sirius had intended when they wrote it.

:: :: :: ::

Having already decided that Mad-Eye Moody was exactly what his name implied, Rose was not thrilled to enter his class that Thursday.

His attack on Draco had endeared him to the half of the school that hated Draco, but the rest of them were convinced that Moody was just one more in a long line of questionable Defense Against the Dark Arts professors (Professor Lupin excluded). Rose just plain hated him, and that feeling certainly didn't go away when Moody began performing the Unforgivables on spiders. She didn't like him any better when he preformed the Imperius Curse on Rose and her classmates, which didn't work on Rose at all.

The curse felt lovely at first, all floaty and warm.  _Sing_ , a little voice urged her. And Rose opened her mouth and sang, "No, I don't think I will, thanks."

Moody was either oblivious to Rose's utter loathing of him, or he knew and was determined to make her like him. He praised her to the skies, and cast the curse on her over and over again, until even that floaty feeling was just a skimming brush over her thoughts.

:: :: :: ::

The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrived, the famed 'Goblet of Fire' was unveiled, and Ginny and Rose were completely distracted.

"I can't believe Krum is  _here_ ," Ginny said in an undertone.

The boy in question was sitting at the Slytherin table with the other Durmstrang students, and it appeared that Draco was attempting to have a conversation with Krum. It didn't seem to be going well.

"I can't believe it either," Rose said.

They stared.

"Don't you just want to beg him to teach you how to do the Wronski Feint?"

" _Yes_."

Draco was completely striking out with Krum. It seemed the Bulgarian Quidditch star wasn't much of a talker.

"We should stop staring," Rose said.

"Right," Ginny agreed. "You hate it when people stare at you."

"Yeah, sometimes."

They continued to look.

"Swear to me, Rose," Ginny said seriously, "swear to me that if you can get Krum to teach you the Wronski Feint, you'll teach it to me too."

"I swear."

The rest of the Gryffindors were buzzing about the Tournament, and wondering who the Hogwarts Champion would be – obviously Cedric Diggory, Rose thought, no one else stood a chance – and waiting impatiently for the Goblet of Fire to announce the Champions.

Rose and Ginny were in happy Quidditch land, where Viktor Krum was their own personal instructor, and they went on to play professional Quidditch and eventually win the World Cup for England.

They were startled out of it by a wave of cheering and applause, but mostly by Krum leaving his seat.

"Oh," said Ginny. "It's started, has it?"

"I don't know how we missed it."

The Hall had gone silent once more, and Fleur Delacour was named Beauxbatons Champion. And then Cedric Diggory was named Hogwarts Champion.

"No surprise there," Rose said, as she and Ginny rose to slip out of the Great Hall under the cover of the cheering students. They had a date with the Quidditch pitch. Ginny wanted Rose to block the goal posts while she attempted to score.

"Do you think we can organize some kind of informal Quidditch on the weekends?" asked Ginny.

"I'm sure we could," said Rose. "I mean, we can't be the only ones who are pissed that Quidditch got cancelled for  _this_ —" Rose turned to wave her arm at the Great Hall, and suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her. And it was dead quiet. And everyone had heard what she said about the Tournament.

Ginny noticed too, apparently. "She was just kidding," Ginny laughed falsely. "Ha ha!"

Dumbledore was looking uncharacteristically grave. "Miss Potter," he said, and gestured for her to go through the door the other Champions had gone through.

"Umm…" Rose turned to Ginny, and hissed, "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, but I think you'd better go."

Hermione had had enough. She rushed over to Rose and hissed, "Your name came out of the Goblet!"

"It did not!" said Rose, rearing back as if struck. "I didn't put my name in the stupid Goblet. You guys know how I feel about this Tournament." Rose's exact words had been, 'Why don't we just throw them into a pit of lions and see who comes out?'

"Your name still came out of it!" Hermione insisted.

"But Cedric's the Champion!" Rose protested loudly.

"Miss Potter!" Dumbledore said again. "Please."

"Professor, I didn't—"

"Miss Potter!" Professor McGonagall said sternly, "Now!"

"But—" Rose looked helplessly at her friends, and at the rest of the Great Hall. No one seemed to want to help her. She sagged in defeat, and did as asked.

:: :: :: ::

Rose and Fleur Delacour hated each other on sight. She didn't understand why, at first, because she had no reason to hate Fleur, but the feeling was definitely mutual. Rose realized later, with much self-disgust, that it was because they were both used to being the prettiest girl in any given room, and having competition pissed them both off.

"What is it?" Fleur said, when Rose entered the room where the proper Champions were waiting. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

"No," Rose said shortly.

Ludo Bagman entered the room, a bundle of incredulous joy, and introduced Rose as the 'Fourth Champion'.

"Vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman," Fleur said, giving Rose a contemptuous look, which was returned with interest.  _Blondes_.

Madame Maxime and Professor Karakaroff were outraged, but were shaken from their anger by Rose backing up everything they said. "That's right! Hogwarts  _can't_  have two Champions. And I  _am_  too young to compete! And my guardians will  _never_  allow it!"

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Rose?" Dumbledore asked calmly, once he had gotten the rest of the adults to shut up.

"No!"

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"

Rose blinked. "You mean, that was all Fred and George had to do?" She shook her head. "No. No, I did not. Professor, I have been saying -  _loudly_  - for weeks that I believe this Tournament is both antiquated and barbaric. I would never have entered myself in it."

Someone coughed, and it sounded like, 'beauty pageant.' Rose glared around the room, looking for the culprit.

No matter how Rose protested, no one seemed to believe her.

"I refuse!" Rose finally shouted over the din. "I will not compete!"

But apparently she was bound to. Putting her name into the Goblet constituted a magical contract, and she could not back out.

"Then I forfeit!" she proclaimed, and everyone froze in terror and stared at Rose as though she would be struck down by lightning.

Snape clapped a hand over her mouth. "Miss Potter, you do not know what the terms of the contract are, and thus do not know what you will lose if you choose to forfeit the Tournament."

Rose pulled his hand away. "What would I lose?"

Everyone looked to Mr. Crouch. "The terms state that if a Champion forfeits the contest, then his or her magic will be forfeited as well."

"My  _magic?_ " Rose gaped. "I take it back! I'll compete."

Mad-Eye Moody entered the room, and started doing his conspiracy nut routine, and said that it was likely that  _someone_ —he glared at Snape and Karkaroff in turn—was hoping that Rose would die during the Tournament. Rose thought of the dream she had before school began and shuddered.

After much grumbling from teachers and Champions alike, Dumbledore sent Rose and Cedric off to their house dormitories. Rose was too rattled to enjoy the fact that she was walking down darkened hallways alone with Cedric Diggory.

"So we'll be competing against each other again," Cedric said with a small grin.

"I guess so," she said reluctantly. "I'd rather it was Quidditch."

"You mean that," he said wonderingly. "You really didn't put your name in the Goblet."

"That's what I've been saying for the past hour," Rose pointed out. The boy was pretty, but she was now questioning just how bright he was.

"I know, but I thought you were…"

"Lying?"

"Yeah." He blushed. "Sorry."

"It's all right," she sighed. "I just hope everyone else believes me."

:: :: :: ::

It took a while to convince her housemates, who were all too happy to have a reason to throw a party, that she had not entered herself in the Tournament. Rose finally had to stand on a table, and get the Weasley twins to whistle.

Rose explained. She answered questions. And she explained some more.

"It will take your  _magic_  away?" someone demanded.

"That's what the contract says."

"That's awful! What if you get injured and can't compete? What happens then?"

"I don't know," Rose admitted.

Hermione stood on a chair next to Rose's table and said, "Are we all agreed that we must help Rose get through this Tournament alive?"

The Gryffindors agreed.

"Good," Hermione said. "Rose is going to need an accelerated training program, so she can hold her own with the other Champions. I've drawn up a tutoring schedule, and if any of you older students would like to help Rose, or know things that could help her, you can sign up."

Everyone wanted to help.

Rose loved her housemates more than ever in that moment. She got down from the table and hugged Hermione tight. "You're the best," she said. "Thank you."

Hermione patted her arm. "It's no trouble. And I expect to be learning along with you, so it benefits me as well."

:: :: :: ::

The rest of the school wasn't nearly as understanding. The Hufflepuffs were angry that she was stealing their thunder, the same girls who had been at Rose for becoming Little Miss England were singing the same tune, and none of them – even though they had seen and heard her reaction to the Goblet's choice – believed that she didn't put her name in the Goblet.

And Fleur Delacour was a nightmare.

"She must like zee attenzion," she said to the Ravenclaws who gathered around her like she was their new messiah. Fleur sent Rose a nasty little smile. "I zeenk we should not give it to her, no?" And Rose had thought Pansy Parkinson was a pain. The worst part of having Fleur Delacour as an enemy was that Rose couldn't say anything against her. It would only serve to make Rose look petty, and Fleur knew it.

Draco, however, came through for her.

"Look," he said, showing off the badges he'd made. It said, ' _Support Rose Potter – The True Hogwarts Champion_ ', and then flashed to a thorny rose strangling the competition. Draco grinned at it happily. He clearly loved his creation.

"You can't wear those," Rose said.

"I think I can, Potter," he said, tapping the badge. "See? I'm wearing it now. Half of Slytherin is wearing them, as we can't abide the thought of a Hufflepuff representing our fair school, and the Weasley twins have requested enough for all of Gryffindor."

Rose moaned. "You know I didn't enter myself, right?"

"I know. Your expression when you heard was priceless." He did an imitation of a gasping fish. "But now that you're in it you may as well win it."

"I have no chance of winning!" she said. "I doubt I'll make it through alive!"

"That's enough of that defeatist attitude, Rose. Get it out of your system!" Draco shook her shoulders. "Now, I've got some people looking into things. I know that the First Task is a meant to be a secret, but I'll find out what it is so you can be prepared, all right?"

Rose blinked at him. "You're going to help me  _cheat?_ "

"How else will you win?" he asked reasonably. "Besides, I don't want you to die. So accept my help. The others will be cheating too, so really this is an offer to level the playing field."

"You can't tell me that Cedric will cheat. Hufflepuffs don't know how."

"Well, no," he admitted. "Diggory probably won't, but that's because he's stupid. And you aren't stupid, are you?"

"No…"

"Good. Then it's settled. I'll let you know when I find something out."

:: :: :: ::

Sirius and Remus came to the castle when they received Rose's letter with the news. They were, as Rose suspected they would be, outraged. They arrived during dinner on the day after Rose's name had come out of the Goblet, dragged her out of her chair, and marched her up to the head table.

"I refuse to let her compete!" Sirius shouted at Dumbledore.

"It's out of my hands, Sirius," Dumbledore said sadly.

"She's too young!" he ranted. "You were meant to prevent under-age students from competing in this, Dumbledore! And now  _my kid_ —"

"Is there any way to get her out of it?" Remus asked, seemingly calm, but Rose knew it wouldn't take much to set Remus off too.

"I'm afraid not."

"We'll take her out of school!" Sirius threatened. "We'll move to bloody America!"

"Sirius," Rose said, grabbing his arm. "If I don't compete I'll be turned into a Squib!"

"You'll what? She'll what? What the hell kind of fucked up shit have you got these kids putting themselves through, Dumbledore?"

There was an 'oooh' and excited whispers ran through the dining students. Rose doubted that  _anyone_  had ever dared swear at the Headmaster like that.

"Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall shouted. "That is enough!" Sirius immediately looked contrite.

"I apologize," he said stiffly. "Now tell me how I can protect my kid from this madness that your foolishness and neglect has gotten her into."

"It was a magically binding contract?" Remus asked.

"I'm afraid that is the case. Miss Potter must compete, or the Goblet will take her magic as forfeit."

Sirius swore, and hugged Rose tight. "This is bloody insane."

"I know," she said.

She was so glad they were here. Finally, someone realized the danger she was in and how much she didn't want to be in the bloody Tournament, and while she knew that there was nothing they could do to get her out of it, she was glad they loved her enough to try.

And hearing Sirius call her 'my kid' was really nice.

They took her out of the Great Hall to talk to her privately, and as they left, the Hall exploded with noise. Remus shut the doors behind them. Sirius started to pace the entrance hall.

Remus hugged her. "You'll be just fine," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

"Hermione's organized a tutoring schedule for me with some of the older Gryffindors," she said. "I've got extra lessons every night now."

He smiled. "That's a good idea. I'll send along some defense books, all right?"

"That would be great."

"We finally got the Floo hooked up as well, so if you want to talk to us -  _for any reason at all_  - do so." He handed her a sachet of Floo Powder. "Just call 'Marauder's Royal Crescent' and you'll get the parlor fire."

Rose wondered if she ought to tell them that Draco was going to help her find out what the tasks were beforehand, but wasn't sure how they would take the news that she was going to cheat shamelessly.

"I'm going to get that contract from the Ministry," Sirius said. "I'll get our lawyers to look it over and see if it can be broken." He didn't look hopeful about her chances, and pulled her into a rough hug. "Are you sure you don't want to quit? We could live quite happily as Muggles. We've been doing it all summer…"

Rose made a face.

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

:: :: :: ::

Rita Skeeter was a shark, and she smelled blood in the water.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Rose before we start? The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?"

But Rose was no fool. She'd read Rita Skeeter's articles, and knew she'd have to be nuts to allow Rita to get so much as a quote from her. "I'm a minor, Ms. Skeeter," she said politely. "You'll need permission from my guardians before you can interview me."  _And they'd never give it_.

"Oh, that's just silly," she simpered, though her eyes had gone sharp. "Just between us girls, you know—"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Skeeter, but my godfather wouldn't be pleased. He's terribly protective of me."

Despite being innocent, Sirius's name still had the power to strike fear into some hearts. And the Black lawyers were nothing to scoff at. Rita relented, but Rose knew it was only a matter of time before Rita got what she wanted.

Rose wasn't wrong.

Rita's article was front page of the Daily Prophet the following day, and it wasn't so much about the Triwizard Tournament, as it was about Rose Potter, Girl Who Lived, as an unwilling participant.

There was a basic rehashing of the tragedies and triumphs of Rose's life, and Rita had gotten quotes from a number of Rose's classmates – which was where the juicy gossip lay.

_Rose has taken to her life of celebrity like a duck to water. She is known to be a regular invitee to any party held by Hogwarts students (This reporter has learned that these gatherings often involve drinking copious amounts of alcohol, amongst other unsavory activities), she is often seen at the pub in Hogsmeade, and currently resides in London, which boasts an active nightlife._

_Rose's fellow students report that she is very popular with the boys: "I know for a fact that she's been with Eddie Carmichael (5_ _th_ _year Ravenclaw), and George Weasley (6_ _th_ _year Gryffindor). And she's a shameless flirt! I'm certain she has a crush on Cedric Diggory (fellow Hogwarts Champion),_ _**and** _ _Draco Malfoy (4_ _th_ _year Slytherin, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy)."_

_This reporter pleads with the Girl Who Lived to put a stop to her wild party girl lifestyle! Perhaps this Tournament is just what Rose Potter needs to focus on something more important than parties and boys._

Rose set down the newspaper, looked out at the sea of students who were whispering about her, and vowed that she would get revenge.


	6. Year Four, Part 2

"I've got it," Draco said as they entered Potions class the Friday before the First Task. Rose normally sat with Hermione during Potions, but Draco pulled her into the seat next to him.

"What is it?" she asked, heart pounding in her throat.

He frowned, swallowed, and said in a low voice, "Dragons."

Rose blinked.

"There's a dragon in an enclosure, and a clutch of eggs," he went on. "You've got to get past the dragon and steal one of the eggs. And before you ask, yes, I'm sure."

He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Rose? Are you all right?"

She hummed the affirmative; because if she opened her mouth she was certain she would throw up or scream.

"You'll come up with something," he said, and took pity on her by brewing their potion all by himself.

Rose just stared at the cauldron as he brewed, her thoughts whirring.

:: :: :: ::

"You are  _Xena_. You are  _Buffy_. You are  _not_  going to die," Rose said to herself as she waited for Ludo Bagman to call her name, and face her imminent demise. She took a deep breath, and wished she were anywhere else.

Would being a Squib be so bad?  _…yes._

She looked down at the moving figurine of her dragon, the Hungarian Horntail, stalking about her palm. Bagman called her name. Rose dropped the model on the ground, and crushed it under her boot.

"You can do this," she said to herself, and stepped out into the enclosure. She looked at the dragon, huge and scary and ugly, and tossed her Invisibility Cloak over her shoulders. She took a breath, and crept quietly forwards.

:: :: :: ::

"You're tied for first place!" Ginny yelled, dragging Rose into jumping around in a happy circle with her.

"Hey, Potter," Cedric said, walking over to them. "Great job!"

"Thanks. You too."

Cedric leaned over Rose, whispered, "You're a goddess, and a lifesaver," and kissed her cheek. Rose smiled stupidly after him.

"What was  _that_  about?" Ginny asked, as he walked away and they watched him go.

"Oh, nothing," she said.

:: :: :: ::

A few weeks after the task, McGonagall announced that there would be a Yule Ball. The other girls were very excited about it, but Rose was not.

"Miss Potter, you should know that the Triwizard Champions and their partners traditionally open the ball—"

"Oh, I'm not going, Professor."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. I'm going home for Christmas."

"No, Miss Potter, you are not."

"Yes. I am."

Professor McGonagall looked sternly at her over her glasses. "No, you are not. You are a Champion, Miss Potter, whether you like it or not, and as such you are expected to participate in Triwizard events. This includes the Yule Ball."

"It's my first proper Christmas with Sirius and Remus, and I'm not going to miss it for a  _ball_."

"I'm sure they'd want you to attend."

"Does this function require that I have a date? A  _male_  date?"

"Yes."

"Then they wouldn't want me to attend."

"I'm sure you can find  _someone_  your godfather would approve of." To her credit, McGonagall looked doubtful. Rose tried and failed to picture the kind of boy Sirius wouldn't mind her dancing with. Even if there were such a boy, she was certain she wouldn't want to go to the ball with him.

"I'll… broach the subject," Rose allowed. "But you should probably expect a Howler."

:: :: :: ::

There was a problem with being both a girl and a Triwizard Champion: while Rose expected the boys to ask her, as a Champion they expected her to ask them, which  _so_  was not going to happen.

Rose decided to hold out for a while. If worst came to worst she was certain her fanboy, Colin Creevey, would go with her. (And he almost fit the criteria of what Sirius would find acceptable in a date.)

In the meantime, Rose went about making certain that Ginny got invited to the ball. As Ginny was only a third year, she needed to be asked by someone older.

Rose cornered Blaise Zabini after Potions class.

"Are you going with anyone to the ball?" she asked.

Blaise's eyes widened, and he shook his head at her. "Please tell me you're not asking me to go with you."

Stung, Rose scowled at him. "No. I was asking if you had a date, and then I was going to say that if you didn't you should ask Ginny."

Blaise sighed in relief. "Ginny! Right. Do you think she'll say yes?"

"She likes you. Of course she'll say yes."

"Great. Thanks, Potter," he smiled. "Speaking of dates, do you have one?"

"What do you care? You obviously find me repulsive. Geez. You'd think that Skeeter article would have made me more popular with the boys and not less."

He laughed. "That's not it at all. Just tell me if you have a date or not, yeah?"

"No, I don't have a date."

"Well, that will change."

:: :: :: ::

Blaise was right, because right afterward this happened:

"So, what do you think?" he said, grinning. "We'd have a good time."

"Oh, I know we would! That's not it at all. I just don't want Sirius to be… you know."

"Overprotective? Sending me cursed packages in the post? Threatening my life should I lay an inappropriate hand on his little girl?"

"Yes, yes, and yes."

"I'm willing to risk it."

Rose grinned. "All right then."

"All right? You'll go to the ball with me?"

"Yes, George, I'd love to go to the ball with you."

George Weasley picked her up and twirled her around. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw a pale blond head retreating.

:: :: :: ::

That evening, Ginny breezed into the common room, looking both ecstatic and incredulous. She grabbed Rose's arm, and dragged her up the girls staircase without saying a word.

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny checked to see that Rose's dorm room was empty, and pushed Rose onto her bed. "I can't believe you!" she said, pacing. "Sometimes I just want to— ugh!" Ginny flicked her, right between the eyes.

"Oi! What is your problem? Did you not want to go to the ball with Blaise?"

"Oh, no, I do! Thank you so much! I'm going to the Yule Ball with the hottest boy in school. I couldn't be happier! It's the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You're going to the ball with  _George?_ "

"How did you know that? It just happened." Rose asked. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad?  _Mad?_  I can't believe you!"

"Gin," Rose said helplessly, "I didn't know you didn't want me to date your brothers!"

"Oh, I don't care about that!" she said. "Date them all if you like! But why would you go the ball with  _George?_ "

"Because he asked me?"

Ginny gave a scream of frustration. "But you had to know – you absolutely could not have missed the signs!"

"Signs of what?"

"Draco Malfoy wanted to go with you, you idiot! And now he's taking Pansy-bloody-Parkinson!"

"He's what?"

"That's right, missy. You've missed your chance, because Parkinson's got her big pink claws in him now! And you're mad about him and you don't even know it!" Ginny wailed, and threw herself back on Rose's bed.

"Ginny, I am not—"

"Ugh! I can't even talk to you right now." She got up, and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

Rose was still staring after her, when Ginny opened the door again. "Oh, speaking of the ball, I was hoping I could borrow a dress. Mine sucks."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

:: :: :: ::

Both Ginny and Rose's dates paled in comparison to Hermione's.

Hermione was blushing pink after her tale, and Rose and Ginny just stared at her.

"Really?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

"In the library?" Rose said.

"Yes. In the library," Hermione repeated.

"That is so…" Rose said, unable to find the words.

Ginny whimpered, and said, "Damn."

:: :: :: ::

Rose was having a great time at the ball. It could have been hell, but George made sure she had a great time. He'd kept her laughing during dinner, and led her expertly around the dance floor when it was time for the Champions to open the ball, and then they'd had fun.

Fred and George spun Rose and Angelina Johnson back and forth, until Rose wasn't sure which twin she was dancing with any longer.

"I need to catch my breath," she said, and luckily a slower song started to play.

"May I have this one?"

Rose spun, locking eyes with Draco, who, truth be told, she'd been avoiding since Ginny had yelled at her. Draco didn't wait for an answer, and took her hand.

"All right then," George said, and retreated.

"I was going to ask you to this, you know," Draco said as they danced.

"I know. Ginny told me."

He nodded, and ducked his head. "What would you have said?"

"I would have said yes."

"Why? Because we're – friends? Or because—"

"Draco, you're here with Pansy."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"I—I don't know."

Draco looked at her for a moment. "Let's go outside."

"No, Draco. I don't like Pansy, but I won't let you do that to her."

"Oh, who cares about bloody Pansy," he hissed in her ear. "I want to talk to you."

"Well, I'm here with George, and I won't do that to  _him_. Talk to me here."

Draco glared. "You won't like what I have in mind for here."

Rose wondered with a thrill what he had in mind. "Let's just dance then."

"Merlin, Potter, you are the most infuriating girl…"

But they danced, and Rose began to wonder if it would have been better to go outside. Draco's hand was warm on her back, his thumb caressing her waist, and his mouth was right next to her ear. He pulled her close, so they were pressed together chest to hip, and she shivered at the contact.

"Draco," she said.

He dipped his head and his lips brushed her cheek. "Hm?"

"I think—"

But then the music changed, and the moment was gone. Rose stepped back, and Draco let her go with a muttered curse. He bowed to her, like the proper Pureblood he was brought up to be, and Rose waited until he had his back turned to flee to the rose garden.

Ginny found her sitting on a bench in the garden, picking petals off the flowers.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Rose shook her head. "You were right, Ginny."

Ginny put her arm around her, and Rose dropped her head onto Ginny's shoulder. "Oh, I know."

:: :: :: ::

Rose escaped from school for the rest of the hols to London. Sirius and Remus were all too glad to have her home, and she was glad to be there.

Sirius wanted to know all about the Yule Ball.

"So this Weasley kid—"

"George," said Rose.

"Right, whatever. Did he treat you right? Did he try anything?"

"No, Sirius."

"Remus, you taught the little bugger. What was he like?"

"Calm down," Remus said. "The Weasley twins are rather like we were in school."

Sirius blinked at him. "Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because it didn't."

"George was a perfect gentleman," Rose insisted, and while that wasn't the end of the inquisition, it mollified Sirius for at  _least_  five minutes.

:: :: :: ::

Rose arrived back at Hogwarts to find that Draco and Pansy Parkinson were now a couple.

Rose dropped her fork, as she'd completely lost her appetite. "What is  _that?_ " she said to Ginny.

Across the Great Hall, Pansy was nearly in Draco's lap as they ate dinner, and far from looking irritated at the girl, Draco was smiling at her. Pansy was chatting away happily, grinning at Draco as she did. It was like a train wreck. Rose wanted to look away, and knew that she ought to, but she couldn't stop staring. Pansy laid a smacking kiss on Draco's cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

"They're  _together_  now," Ginny said, disgust evident. "I don't know what he's thinking…"

"I was gone for a week!" Rose said.

"Parkinson moves  _fast_ ," Ginny said, hinting.

"You mean she… he…"

"I don't know if they did… everything," Ginny said, "But I was in the Slytherin common room with Blaise when Pansy came up from the boys' dorms. She looked very… smug."

"Oh, God," Rose said. Her stomach was churning.

"Be cool," Ginny said. "She's looking over here."

The Slytherin girl sent Rose a victorious smirk, before she kissed Draco again. Rose clenched her jaw.

"Look at it this way, Rose," said Ginny, "She had to put out to keep Draco interested. He's liked you for years, and you've never even kissed."

"Yeah," she said angrily, "but it  _worked_. It shouldn't have worked, not if he really liked  _me_."

Ginny had nothing to say to that, so put a slice of chocolate cake in front of Rose instead. "Pansy wants Blaise and I to double with her and Draco next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Christ," Rose swore, stabbing the cake.

"Will you hate me if I go?"

"No!" Rose said. "I know you like Blaise, I want you to go with him. I just can't believe how… couple-y they are."

"I'll find out what's going on with them, and then you and I can figure out how to break them up," Ginny said.

"Oh, screw Draco-bloody-Malfoy," Rose said with a vicious stab to her cake. "Who needs him?"

"Um, that's the spirit?"

"Thank you."

:: :: :: ::

Rose had more important things to worry about than Draco-bloody-Malfoy anyway, as the Second Task was quickly approaching, and her golden egg clue was still nothing but irritating noise. As she wasn't sure if her Slytherin spy network (or whatever Draco had used to find out about the First Task) was still available to her, she was stuck figuring this one out on her own.

She was still being tutored by older Gryffindors each night, who all wanted to know if she'd figured out the clue yet, as they wanted to be able to help her prepare for the task.

"I don't know!" she finally wailed, when it was Fred and George's turn to tutor her. They had a standing spot in the rotation, taking over every Monday night. The spells they taught her were usually bizarre, and Rose doubted any of them would ever come in handy, though it was amusing to turn her dueling opponents different colors and into different objects.

"Give it here," George demanded. Rose tossed him the egg. She'd taken to carrying it around in her bag, hoping that inspiration would strike. George opened the egg, and the horrible screeching began again.

They all winced, and tried to listen extra carefully.

"Close it!" Fred yelled over the noise finally.

The silence was just as jarring as the noise.

"Do you recognize it?" he asked, looking to his twin. George shrugged. "A banshee?"

"Maybe it needs to be muffled," Rose said, thinking. "It almost sounds like words in there, but like someone screaming them. Maybe?"

George grinned, and conjured a block of lime green gelatin to surround the opened egg. The noise was definitely more recognizable as words, and they all bent their heads to the wiggling block.

"Is that…" Fred said.

"Singing," Rose nodded.

"I can't make out the words," George said.

They all sat back and stared hard at the egg. "Wait!" Rose said, "What was that spell you used on Hedwig in the Chamber of Secrets? The one that made her louder?"

They snapped to, sending sound amplification spells at the block, and then a song filled the room.

"You're brilliant!" Rose said, as the song, which was actually rather pretty, played and played and played.

:: :: :: ::

Neville was the one who figured out how Rose was going to breathe underwater.

While the older students were debating whether it would look suspicious if Rose knew how to cast a powerful Bubble-Head Charm, which she would need if she was going into the depths of the lake, Neville handed Rose a Herbology book and pointed at a caption titled 'Gillyweed'.

Rose read, and yelled, "Neville, you're brilliant!" and laid a smacking kiss on his cheek.

The older students stopped talking, and looked over to them.

"Neville's figured it out!" she cried, as Neville blushed bright red. "Now, where can I get my hands on some gillyweed?"

Neville knew a guy.

:: :: :: ::

Rose went to Hogsmeade with Fred and George, because Ginny was going on her double date with Blaise, Draco and Pansy, and Hermione had been invited to go with Viktor Krum.

Rose had helped them both get dressed and made up for their dates, and was a little relieved to be spending the day with a couple of boys who didn't care what she looked like. They told her she was lovely, no matter how little time she'd spent primping.

"You look lovely, Miss Potter," George said, gallantly offering her his arm.

Fred took up her other side, "I don't think Hogsmeade is ready to gaze upon the loveliness that is you."

Rose, as she'd only thrown her hair up in a ponytail, and was wearing a jumper and jeans, rolled her eyes at them. "To the joke store, gentlemen!"

But before they went to the joke store, the twins had some Basilisk parts to hock, and they all left the apothecary with pockets that jingled with galleons. And Rose had a little jar filled with gillyweed.

"We're selling it a bit at a time," Fred explained. "The price of basilisk bits has gone way down, because they found one in Argentina last year."

"We're going to wait to sell off the rest until the price rockets back up."

"It's worth more than this?" Rose asked, shaking her pocket, which wasn't as full as Fred and George's but still weighted her down.

"Way more," they said.

"Awesome."

"We need to give Ginny her cut," George said. "Where was she going?"

"They're at Madam Puddifoot's," Rose said.

"Can't believe she's dating a Slytherin," Fred muttered, as they began heading over to the tea shop.

"Blaise isn't bad," Rose said. "He's a gentleman, at least. You don't need to worry for Ginny's virtue." At least not until Ginny was fifteen, because that was when Ginny had decided she would be doing away with her 'virtue'. Rose, of course, wouldn't tell the twins this.

"We didn't know her virtue was in danger!" George said. "Do we need to have a word with the slimy snake?"

"Ginny is perfectly capable of taking care of herself," Rose reminded them. "As you well know."

They reached the tea shop, and Rose hung back. "I'll just wait out here," she said.

"Oh, no," Fred said. "You need to go in there, and show that prat Malfoy you don't care what he does."

"It'll drive him mad," George agreed.

"I  _don't_  care what he does."

"Then you won't mind coming in," Fred reasoned, and the twins wrapped her up between them. Like she was on a date with  _both_  of them.

"Christ," she said, and had no choice but to go into the tea shop.

Ginny scowled at them until Fred dropped the money pouch on the table. Then she grinned. "Okay, delivery complete. Get out of here."

Rose, carefully not looking at Draco and Pansy's side of the little table, said, "You heard the lady. Let's go."

"Certainly, Miss Potter," George said. "No need to cut in on our little sister's date when we've a date of our own to get back to."

Rose sighed. "Yes. The joke shop awaits."

"And then perhaps some canoodling at the Three Broomsticks," Fred added with waggling eyebrows.

Rose blushed, because the idea of canoodling with the twins wasn't unpleasant. Ginny smirked at her, as though she knew what Rose was thinking.

"Well, bye then," Pansy said, with false cheer.

Rose finally chanced a glance at Draco. His gray eyes were locked on her face. She couldn't make out what his expression meant, but she would have been stuck in it forever if the twins hadn't led her out of the shop.

:: :: :: ::

Having figured out the clue and the Second Task with a month to spare, Rose had far too much time on her hands. She still spent every evening with the older Gryffindors, who were teaching her spells to repel the pests that lived in the lake, and was trying to learn a translation spell, just in case she needed to speak to the merpeople. But this still left her with hours and hours that she spent thinking about Draco-bloody-Malfoy. He wasn't speaking to her much any more, and Rose didn't know if this was Pansy's doing, or if Draco had decided that being Rose's friend wasn't worth the effort any longer.

Either way Rose wasn't happy, and often ate her meals in the courtyard rather than sit across the hall from Draco and Pansy, who were so cuddly and affectionate it made her feel ill.

It was on one of these occasions, when Rose was nibbling on a sandwich, and telling herself that she was an idiot to care so much that Cedric found her. "Hey, Rose," he said, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Course not," she said, making room for him on the bench.

"It's a little cold out for a picnic, isn't it?" he asked.

"I don't like the Great Hall much these days."

"The staring?" The Daily Prophet had reported on her date with the Weasley twins, insinuating that Rose was involved in a relationship with the two of them at once. The twins found this hilarious, and fueled the rumors by cuddling Rose, and kissing her cheek whenever they left her.

"Hm? Oh, no, I don't mind that. It's just—" she wrinkled her nose. Why was she telling Cedric Diggory this? "Never mind."

"No, tell me," he insisted. He smiled at her, and Rose was powerless to resist.

"Draco Malfoy is dating Pansy Parkinson, and they're all over each other during meals, and it puts me off my food. So I eat out here."

"I hadn't noticed."

Rose blushed. "Yeah, it's probably just me…"

"Did you, uh, like him?"

Rose shrugged. "I did, but now…" she shook her head. "Not so much."

"I thought you were dating George Weasley," he said.

"What? No. We're just good friends." At least Cedric hadn't bought the threesome rumor.

"Oh. But at the ball he was, well…" Cedric frowned and then chuckled self-consciously, "Well, you two seemed close."

"Well, we're… affectionate friends."

"Ah."

"You're dating Cho Chang now, aren't you?"

Cedric looked at his hands. "I think she'd like to, but no, we're not together."

"And do you want to? Date her?"

"I don't think so. She's not really my type."

Rose smiled. "Wow, and here I thought pretty Ravenclaws were a universal type."

Cedric chuckled. "I'm kind of a sucker for pretty Gryffindors, myself." He looked at her pointedly.

His eyes were gray. Not quite the  _right_  shade of gray, though. Not at all like Draco's, whose pewter irises had a flare of silver around the pupils. Cedric's were almost-but-not-quite blue-

"Oh!" Rose said finally, completely disbelieving.

"Yeah," he smiled crookedly, and Rose stared with wonder at the sight of Cedric Diggory  _nervous_. Because of  _her_. "So, have you figured your egg out yet?"

"My egg? Oh, the egg. Yes. I'm good to go."

"Yeah? I was hoping I could pay you back for telling me about the dragons. I only just figured mine out."

"The Gryffindors are helping me… quite a lot actually. That's probably against the rules, but they, well, me too, we were all worried that I'd die in this thing, and—" she babbled.

"I'm not going to tell. The Hufflepuffs are helping me too. And we both know Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are cheating, so…"

"So it's only fair," she finished.

"Right."

"Right."

"I'm going to head inside. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said faintly.

"Here," he said, and cast a warming charm on her. "Don't stay out here too long, all right? It's cold." He sent her one last grin, and Rose needed no warming charm.

He left, and Rose said to herself, "Ginny is  _never_  going to believe me."

:: :: :: ::

The Second Task was a cinch.

The gillyweed worked perfectly, Rose remembered all the spells she needed to keep the grindylows away, and she was the first Champion back with her hostage. Well inside the time limit.

She and Ginny sat wrapped in blankets, drinking hot tea, and waited for the rest to get back.

"What do you think is taking them so long?" Rose asked. She had an advantage, what with the webbed feet and Moaning Myrtle showing her the way, but  _still_.

"I dunno," Ginny said, sipping her tea. "I wasn't exactly awake down there, you know."

"Be glad. They had you tied up to a statue."

"Really? I feel violated. Who was Cedric's hostage?"

"Cho Chang."

"Oooh. Do you think he was lying to you about not liking her?"

"I don't think Hufflepuffs know how to lie."

Ginny hummed. "I think it's adorable that Hermione is what Viktor Krum would miss most."

"And that it gives us an in to learn the Wronski Feint doesn't hurt anything," Rose said, smirking.

The girls clinked tea cups.

Fleur appeared first, sans hostage, wailing in French for her little sister, who she apparently hadn't been able to get to. She was covered in welts, so Rose knew that the grindylows had gotten to her.

Ginny snorted into her tea, and murmured, "Bitch deserves it."

Rose tried not to laugh, and failed.

"So, Miss Potter," Ginny said, pretending to speak into a microphone, "how does it feel to be kicking so much arse?"

Rose pretended to think about this. "Pretty good. I think all my success is going to my head. I really do."

Ginny laughed.

Cedric and Viktor arrived with their hostages outside the time limit, and Rose was leading the Triwizard Tournament by twelve points.

:: :: :: ::

As Rose didn't have to worry about exams the twins enlisted her help in setting up the Chamber of Secrets for their seventeenth birthday party. They spent every free moment during the month of March in the Chamber alternating between decorating and dueling.

The Gryffindors agreed the Third Task was likely to be more dangerous than the previous two, and were determined to see Rose win now that she was so far in the lead and a win for Gryffindor seemed possible. The twins took up the responsibility with enthusiasm that would have been frightening if it hadn't been so helpful. Rose quickly became proficient in defensive spells, because the consequence was going around the next day with strange colored hair. The twins believed in tough love. By the end of March, Rose knew the counter to every spell the twins threw at her, and her shield charm was so good that she could bounce their spells back at them. They took to shooting spells at her when she wasn't paying attention, and then Rose learned how to sense a spell heading her way.

The basilisk bits had long been packed away in trunks charmed to keep their contents cool, and the whole Chamber had been cleaned with scouring charms until it glittered. Then the decorating began. Fred and George had decided on a beach cave theme, and so the stone floors were covered in white sand, and one long flat wall reflected a night beach scene so realistic that the waves flowed into the Chamber. They set glowing fairies to flit around the room and hole up in the craggy surface of the walls. They made the statue of Salazar Slytherin look like a golden, glowing, ancient island god, and decided that all the drinks would be served in coconuts or with paper umbrellas.

When the day of the party arrived Rose dressed to theme, wearing a tank top and a grass skirt. The twins looked delighted when they saw her, as they'd chosen to wear bright pink shirts printed with white hibiscus flowers.

"Very nice," George said, twirling her.

"I had to wear my robes down here," she said. "I didn't want anyone to see me looking like this."

"Ah, for shame," Fred said, and conjured up a flower for her to wear behind her ear.

They told the House Elves what they wanted served at the party, who were thrilled to have a party to cater, and the three of them waited for people to show up.

Lee was first, as he was in charge of setting up the music, and others followed in a steady stream after that.

Rose had doubted the twins could top their last birthday party, but they'd pulled out all the stops for this one. The Chamber was full to bursting. They'd invited the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students as well as nearly everyone in fifth year and above.

Rose played hostess so the twins could enjoy their party, and made sure the House Elves were still happy, and everyone had a drink who wanted one, and Lee never had a problem with the music, and made sure the food never ran out.

"Will you just relax?" George demanded after he'd seen her run the length of the room twice in ten minutes. "It's my birthday, and I want to dance with the prettiest girl at the party."

"As the birthday boy wishes," she said, dropping a tiny curtsey.

He grinned. "That's more like it."

He pulled her to the middle of the throng of dancers, where Fred was spinning Angelina out and yanking her back into his arms as she laughed. George put Rose's back to his chest, and his hands on her hips, and Rose decided it was much more fun to be here than it was to be playing hostess.

They danced and danced, and Rose drank something pink that surely had alcohol in it.

"Come on," George said, taking her hand. "Let's have a break."

He led her over to the statue, and Rose hopped up to sit on the stone plinth. He stood between her knees. Rose combed her fingers through his hair. She felt happy and warm, and very in the mood for some of that cuddling George had been dishing out lately.

"This is a great party," she said. "Much better than last year."

"Much," George agreed, leaning into her. Rose felt her heart stutter in her chest, and George's hands on her knees crept higher. The grass fronds of her skirt crinkled under his palms.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said.

She licked her lips. "Okay," she said breathlessly.

He leaned closer, blue eyes flicking between her mouth and checking the expression in her eyes, and Rose's eyes slipped shut when his lips pressed against hers.

Kissing, Rose decided quickly, was brilliant. If she could she would kiss every moment of every day. And then George urged her to open her mouth with his tongue, and it got better.

George's hands went to her waist, and pulled her closer so their chests were pressed as tightly together as their mouths, and Rose sighed, because that was brilliant too. They kissed and kissed until Rose's lips felt bruised.

They finally broke apart, foreheads together, sucking in air. Rose realized she'd wrapped her legs around his hips, and blushed hotly.

Christ. Kissing made her slutty. What must George think of her?

She needn't have worried. George grinned at her, and she smiled back. "That was brilliant."

She nodded, smiling stupidly.

"Let's dance some more," he said. He helped her off the plinth, and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth.

Then there was dancing and kissing, and Rose decided that was brilliant too.

:: :: :: ::

As nearly everyone in school had been at the party, the next day everyone was talking about Rose Potter and George Weasley snogging happily on the dance floor.

"You don't mind, do you?" George asked, as they sat in the common room the next evening.

"No. Do you?"

"No," he grinned.

"Then I don't mind."

He tugged her hand until she was half in his lap, and kissed her sweetly. "So, Rose Potter," he said.

"Yes, George Weasley?"

"Do you want to be my girl?"

She laughed. "Yes."

They sealed that with a kiss too.


	7. Year Four, Part 3

Rose spent the whole month of April in a happy haze where nothing existed but snogging and Tournament tutoring. Ginny and Hermione didn't mind her, because they were in the same happy place.

Ginny regularly disappeared to the Slytherin dormitory, or wherever she went to meet up with Blaise, and Hermione spent every free moment in the library with Viktor Krum. She never came to Rose's tutoring sessions anymore.

She was only rocked out of it when Draco pulled her aside after Potions on a Friday, saying he had news for her.

"What is it?" she asked, opting to play along with him and pretend like they hadn't been ignoring each other since Christmas.

"They're building a hedge maze on the Quidditch pitch," he said disgustedly. Rose gasped in horror. "I know! But anyway, I flew over and made a map."

He handed her a piece of parchment. "I think they'll put the Triwizard Cup in the middle," he said pointing to the center of the maze on the inked map, "and whoever gets to it first wins."

"That's it?" Rose asked. "We just have to get through a maze?"

"No, there will be obstacles to get past. Enchantments, I think, and my father found Ministry memos that included an order for a sphinx and a chimera."

Rose made a mental note to look those up. "Your father is helping me?"

"Well, no," he said, making a face. "He just thinks I'm interested."

"Thanks, Draco."

He nodded, and looked uncomfortable. "So, I hear you're with George Weasley now."

"Yes," she said, and bit her lip. "How are things with Pansy?"

"Fine."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm going to—"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

"Sure."

:: :: :: ::

Rose began to train for the Third Task in earnest, and George helped by creating a reward system in which when she mastered a new spell she got ten minutes to do whatever she liked to his body.

Rose had never been so motivated to learn.

She had also never been so exhausted. Between all the making out and dueling practice, most nights Rose fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Most nights she dreamed of George and the wicked things they could do to each other (but not until she was sixteen – she was holding out till at  _least_  then), but then one night she woke up screaming in pain.

She dreamed of Voldemort, and it was much like the dream she'd had over the summer. He was in the same room with Peter Pettigrew, and Rose still couldn't see him, because he still sat in that high backed chair by a hearth. Peter had done something, Rose couldn't remember once she'd woken up, but it had been bad enough that Voldemort had cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. She remembered other things, that Peter's mistake had been taken care of, that someone was dead, and that Voldemort intended to feed Rose to his snake.

"Rose!  _Rose!_ "

Rose became aware that the dream world was not the real one, blinked, and realized that she had her wand pointed at Hermione.

She dropped it. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You were  _screaming_ , and holding your scar."

"No, no, I was dreaming… I think it was real. I think it's really happening!"

"What's really happening?"

"Voldemort is trying to come back."

Lavender and Parvati gasped, and looked at her fearfully. Hermione sat down.

"Are you sure? Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"

"No. That was no normal dream."

"All right," Hermione said. "I believe you. We'll talk to Professor Dumbledore in the morning, okay?" Rose was once again filled with love for Hermione. She always knew just what to do.

"Okay."

:: :: :: ::

Rose hadn't had much reason to speak to Dumbledore during her years at Hogwarts. She was rarely in trouble, and even with her 'adventures' with two incarnations of Lord Voldemort Dumbledore hadn't had much to say to her other than, 'Nicely done, Miss Potter.'

He invited her up to his office, offered her candy and tea, and listened politely as she explained the dream she'd had.

"I think it really happened," she said. "I think… well, I don't know how it works, but I think I can see what he's doing. Like the dream I had over the summer. Does that sound crazy?"

"No, Miss Potter. I believe you are correct." He explained his theory about her curse scar: that her scar hurt whenever Voldemort was nearby or when he was feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred.

Rose didn't like the sound of this, and hated her scar more than ever.

They spoke of the possibility of Voldemort making another bid at resurrection, and Dumbledore's fear that all the signs pointed that direction. Rose quelled her shaking by taking another lemon drop.

"Professor," she said hesitantly, "do you remember when Professor Moody said that he believed that someone had entered me in the Tournament because they were hoping that I would die?"

He nodded, expression grave.

"Well, the Third Task would be their last chance, wouldn't it? And, I mean, I've done pretty well so far… Maybe they wouldn't just be leaving it to chance any longer?"

He looked sad and old, suddenly. "I am doing everything I can to ensure your safety," he said softly. "You will be as safe as I can make you."

Rose sighed, feeling slightly better. "Thank you, Professor."

She stood to leave, feeling like she'd need an extra long snogging session with George before she'd really feel okay. As she left, Dumbledore said, "Good luck in the Third Task, Rose."

Rose  _knew_  she had it well in hand, and smiled.

:: :: :: ::

The day of the Third Task arrived, sunny and perfect. Everyone else had exams, but as a Champion, Rose did not. Ginny crammed for her Charms exam at the breakfast table, Hermione re-read her notes for History of Magic, and Rose leaned into George's side and sipped her tea leisurely.

"Confident, are we?" he teased.

"You know it."

He laughed and kissed her temple. "You'll do great."

"I'll do great so long as I get a good luck kiss before I go into the maze," Rose bargained.

"Twist my arm, why don't you? I'll meet you under the Gryffindor stands later."

"Deal."

While the others were in class, Rose was with Sirius and Remus, who had come to watch the final task.

"You've been practicing, right?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. I think I'm Auror Academy ready, that's how much practicing I've been doing." They smiled, relieved.

The three of them wandered the castle all morning, had lunch with her friends, where Sirius grilled George about everything, spent the afternoon arguing whether Rose was old enough to have a boyfriend who was seventeen, ate dinner with Hermione and Ginny, and Rose ducked out early to make out with her boyfriend.

They kissed and he murmured 'good luck' over and over against her skin, and Rose nearly didn't hear Ludo Bagman when he called for her.

She hurriedly straightened her clothes and ponytail, and George gave her a thumbs up.

"I'm here!" she said.

"There you are, Miss Potter!"

"Where were you?" Cedric whispered to her.

"Oh, around," she said airily.

The rules were explained to the Champions, and how they should send up red sparks if they needed a rescue. Ludo Bagman, as master of ceremonies, announced how the points stood, and a wild cheering erupted from the Gryffindor stands.

Rose was to go in the maze first, and had a twelve minute head start. She entered, casting ' _lumos_ ' as she did. Not about to take any chances in the maze, Fred and George had helped her charm Draco's map of the maze onto her forearm, and it showed the path she took in a vivid pink.

Rose consulted the map, and decided to go left.

She ran into a Boggart ('Riddikulus!'), a funny golden mist that was a favorite of Fred and George, which disoriented but Rose knew to just calmly walk through.

Then she heard Fleur scream. "Wonder what got her?" Rose said aloud.

She met nothing for ten minutes after that, and wondered if she'd gotten inordinately lucky with her choice of path.

Then she ran into one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. It was  _enormous_. Rose hid behind the turning of the path, and levitated it to the next path over before she dropped it. It shook the ground and thrashed against the hedge. Rose waited until it had stilled before moving forward.

She hurried along, lit wand held high, and then heard Cedric's voice, and when she heard what he was saying she stopped dead.

"What are you doing?" he yelled. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

And then Rose heard Viktor Krum, and he was casting, ' _Crucio_.'

Her eyes went wide in horror, and she sent severing spells at the wall of the maze. She pushed through the hedge, branches pulling at her hair and scratching her skin, and looked to her right where Cedric was on the ground, jerking, twitching and  _screaming_.

" _Stupefy_!" Rose cried, hitting Viktor in the back.

He went down immediately, and Rose ran over to Cedric.

"Oh my God! Are you all right?"

Cedric held his hands over his face and breathed heavily. "Yeah… I don't believe it… He snuck up behind me…"

Rose looked down at Viktor. "He wouldn't have done this," she said, disbelieving. "He spends all his time macking on Hermione in the bloody library, and she wouldn't let him do that if he was the kind of bloke who uses Unforgivables."

"I thought he was all right," said Cedric.

"Me too," said Rose.

"Do you think he got Fleur earlier?"

"Maybe." Rose sort of thought Fleur had gotten dirt in her hair, and that was why she screamed. She'd feel bad about that if it turned out Fleur had been tortured, but not until then.

Rose sent up red sparks over Viktor's prone body.

"I owe you again," said Cedric.

"You can repay me by coming to my victory party," Rose quipped.

He chuckled. "No, when you come to  _my_  victory party, I'll get you a drink."

"We'll see, Diggory," she said laughing. "We'll see," and they separated at the next fork in the hedge maze.

:: :: :: ::

"Oh, just take it," Rose snapped, wrapping a length of conjured gauze around the bite in her leg. Stupid spider.

Cedric wanted to. It was written all over his handsome face. "No. You take it. You should win. You've saved me twice in here, and I'd have gone down in the First Task if you hadn't told me about the dragons."

"You bloody Hufflepuff," Rose swore, and limped over to him. "I've been cheating this whole stupid Tournament, Diggory." She pulled up her sleeve to show him the map she'd inked onto her skin.

"Yeah, well," Cedric showed her a similar map on his forearm.

Rose was taken aback. "But Hufflepuffs are all about fair play and hard work!"

"I did work hard," Cedric protested with a grin. "I can't draw at all. I worked really hard on this!"

Rose snorted, and rolled her eyes. "I've had Slytherins spying so they could tell me  _exactly_  what the First and Third Tasks entailed. I had Moaning Myrtle lead me to the hostages in the Second Task!"

He looked, of all things, impressed. "Wow, you are a cheat. Slytherins?"

"They do good work," said Rose.

"Can we both take it?" he asked hopefully. "A win for Hogwarts?"

Rose shrugged. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds good actually."

"We'll have a joint victory party." They shook on it, grinning.

And then he dragged her closer.

"What are you doing, Cedric?"

"Are you serious about Weasley?"

"Uh…" His eyes were fixed on her mouth. Rose looked at his, telling herself to be strong. But Rose had always wanted to know what that mouth tasted like. "…yes."

"That's a shame," he said, and kissed her.

It was… it was  _nice_. Very different than George's kisses, which were like fireworks popping down her spine. Cedric's kisses felt more like waves crashing over her. But it didn't seem to matter who was doing the kissing, as Rose found that all kisses turned her slutty. She moaned when he dragged her body up against his, and she was unsure of what her hands were doing on his shoulders. She was pushing, but her fingers were fisted in his shirt.

She finally broke away, gasping. "I should smack you," she said.

"Yeah," he said, and grinned.

"Just when I think I've got you pegged," she muttered.

They reached out their hands to the Triwizard Cup, and both touched a handle.

It was a Portkey.

:: :: :: ::

They landed hard.

"Where are we?" asked Rose, getting to her feet and looking around.

"A really creepy graveyard," Cedric replied. "Is this a part of the task?"

"Can't be," said Rose. "There was only meant to be one person—huh."

A thought had just occurred to her. Maybe whoever had entered her in the Tournament hadn't intended for her to die in the Tournament. Maybe they intended for her to  _win_ …

"Wands out," she snapped, and grabbed a hold of Cedric's shirt to prevent him from wandering. "Stay close, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

In the distance, through the dark, Rose saw something. A figure was moving towards them.

"Someone's coming," she whispered. "Can you Apparate?"

Cedric nodded. "But I can't do Side-Along—"

The figure stopped no more than ten feet away.

"Doesn't matter," she hissed. "Get out of here. Right—"

Rose's knees buckled when the pain struck. She dropped, hand clutching her scar.

"Rose!" Cedric was kneeling beside her. "What are you doing to her?" he demanded of the dark figure.

From far away, Rose heard a high, cold voice say, " _Kill the spare_."

She heard a wand swish, and she heard those words. But it was too late. She had  _shoved_  Cedric with all her might, and he toppled over, falling onto the Triwizard Cup, and was whisked away by the return Portkey. The curse struck the ground where he'd been only a moment before.

"Ha," she said through the pain. But then Voldemort's rage ratcheted up a notch, and she had to bite her tongue to hold back a scream.

:: :: :: ::

She was screwed. She was so bloody fucked, it wasn't even funny.

She'd been tied to a headstone, cut, and  _Crucio_ -ed, and there was a pack of Death Eaters, and Tom Riddle was just as rambling now as he had been at sixteen. If not more so. Only now he was crazier, uglier, and far more deadly.

He was also annoying as all hell, and Rose was pissed off and terrified, and now he wanted to  _duel_  her? Hadn't anyone ever taught Tom Riddle that it was wrong to hit girls?

"Bow, Rose," he said, full of false politeness. "Dumbledore wouldn't want you to be rude, my dear. Go on. Bow to death."

The Death Eaters laughed.

Rose looked across the circle of Death Eaters to where she knew Draco's father stood. She wondered what Draco would say if he knew where his father was now. She wondered what he would do if he knew that his father had  _laughed_  as Rose had been killed.

Because if Draco were here…

"I said  _bow_ ," Voldemort said, raising his wand. And Rose nearly toppled as she felt a giant pressure on her back that made her spine curve, and the Death Eaters laughed harder.

"Very good," he said. "And you face me, straight backed and proud… just like your father when he died..."

Rose growled.

"And now – we duel."

Before Rose could do anything, she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. It was just as bad as last time. She was on the ground screaming, white hot pain like a thousand knives stabbing her, and couldn't believe that she could  _make_  such a sound.

And then it stopped, and Rose scrambled to her feet, stumbled into the wall of Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy, she realized, as his patrician hands gripped her arms. He began to push her back, but Rose grabbed his wrist.

"What will Draco say to you?" she hissed. "He'll  _hate_  you!"

His hands faltered, but he pushed her back into the middle of the circle.

"What was that?" Voldemort asked, his voice sweet and silky. "Do you two know each other?"

"My son is in Potter's year at Hogwarts, My Lord," Lucius said hastily. "She was… interested in him once. My son tells me she has fortunately given up the infatuation."

"Ah," Voldemort said. "Young love. Did you love Draco Malfoy, Rose?"

To get this from Ginny was one thing, but to get it from Lord Voldemort was something else entirely.

"Answer the question, Rose. Don't be rude.  _Imperio!_ "

Even cast by Lord Voldemort himself, the Imperius Curse skimmed lightly over the surface of Rose's thoughts before dissipating.

He tried again, but Rose had already cast one of the spells she'd learned from the twins. They weren't much for your run of the mill defensive spells, but they were excellent if you needed something loud, garish, or distracting.

And this one was all three.

The spell was cast upon a surface, in this case, the grass of the graveyard, and it drew upwards in a rush of deafening sound, not unlike a localized mushroom cloud, before exploding in blinding, popping, whirling lights, not unlike Catherine Wheels. Rose had found it very effective at disorienting an opponent. And it was bloody annoying.

The spell  _exploded_ , and Rose went running. She cleared the circle, jumping over a downed Death Eater, and kept on going, casting spells upon herself as she did. A disillusionment charm. A silencing charm. The one that completely obscured your magical signature the twins used when sneaking around the castle, because it was the only way they could evade Snape.

She ran and ran and ran, dodging headstones, through the graveyard gate, and out into a wide open stretch of grass. An easy target now. She could hear Voldemort behind her, screaming at his Death Eaters to  _get_   _her_ , and she wished with all her heart that she was back at Hogwarts. She wished she was safe. She wished she was with Sirius, even if he just wanted to yell at her for being far too young to be dating George. Hell, she wished she was with George, even if he was breaking up with her for kissing Cedric Diggory.

And then with a weird squeezing sensation and complete loss of breath, Rose was dropped on the ground.

She looked wildly around, thinking that Voldemort had got her somehow, but…

There were the winged boars. She was at the front gates. She was back at Hogwarts.

She sobbed in relief, and threw herself at the gates. They were locked, and she began banging on them. Screaming and pleading, "Let me in! Oh, let me in!"

A figure in the distance was running towards her. It was Snape. He opened the gates, and she fell on him, sobbing in gratitude. "Oh, Professor! Thank you! Oh, God, thank you!"

He patted her awkwardly on the head. "There, there, Miss Potter."

"Professor, it's Voldemort! He's back, oh, he's back! The Cup was a Portkey! Is Cedric all right? He was nearly killed!"

He nodded, and for some reason he cast the Patronus Charm, a doe, and sent it off to the school.

"You'll be all right now," he assured her. "Just… be calm."

Rose sucked in a few deep breaths, and then broke away from him, because Grim was running full tilt out of the castle, barking. She started to sob again in earnest. Sirius skidded to a stop in front of her, transforming as he did so, and Rose fell into his arms.

"Rosie, oh Rosie," he said, and she just cried and cried.

:: :: :: ::

Rose wondered which was worse – actually being in the graveyard, or telling the story over and over again.

First she told Sirius and Remus, and then had been carried to the hospital wing, where she'd told the whole terrible story to Dumbledore and the teachers he'd gathered. Then she told the Minister when he barreled in, and incidentally didn't believe her. Then she told Hermione, Ginny, George and Fred when they demanded to see her.

They told her what had happened while she'd been gone. Cedric had appeared with the Cup, and the Hufflepuffs began celebrating, but Cedric was frantic and ran to Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was found to be an imposter, and was responsible for Viktor's actions in the maze. Dumbledore had sent Snape to go to the Death Eater gathering to see if he could save Rose…

She was resting now. Lying in the dark of the hospital wing. Cedric was sleeping a few beds down from her, long since knocked out on Dreamless Sleep potion. Madam Pomfery had tried to give her a sleeping potion as well, but Rose had palmed it, not wanting to sleep just yet.

The door to the wing creaked open, and Rose sat up, casting a  _lumos_.

It was Draco.

He sat in the chair beside her bed, and looked at his hands. "I heard what happened," he said.

"Who told you?" Rose wondered.

"The Daily Prophet ran a special edition." He took the folded newspaper out of his pocket, and handed it to Rose.

For a Rita Skeeter article it was surprisingly accurate. She'd only spun it as the 'Girl Who Lived to Party' having her past horrors come back to haunt her. Rose set the paper down.

Draco looked miserable. "You didn't say, in the article…" He swallowed. "Rose, was my father there?"

"Yes."

He took a deep shuddering breath, and pressed his forehead to his palms. His fair hair fell through his fingers, and Rose wanted to brush it back.

"Are you going to tell?" he asked.

Rose bit back a sob. "Will you be able to talk him out of it?" Draco looked up, and his eyes were filled with tears. "Voldemort's crazy, Draco," she said, her voice breaking. "I know you believe in Pureblood superiority, but not like this. Please, not like this."

He stood up, and looked like he would speak, but turned and left the room.

Rose watched him go. Then, fighting back tears, searched under her pillow for the vial of Dreamless Sleep, and downed it.

:: :: :: ::

Rose woke the next morning to the sound of clinking coins. She opened her eyes and saw Cedric sitting cross-legged on the bed nearest hers, a bag of galleons in his lap, separating the lot into two large piles.

"Don't you try to cheat me out of my share," she said, voice rough with sleep.

He snorted. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"I thought there was meant to be an award ceremony," she said.

"Cancelled, on account of… well, everything."

"Hmm." Rose snuggled in her blankets. "I don't think we should cancel our party," she said. "We bloody earned it."

"You earned it," he said. "You saved my life again, only this time the threat was much more imminent."

Rose shuddered, thinking of how she would have felt if that curse  _had_  hit Cedric, but said lightly, "That's what? Four drinks you owe me?"

Cedric grinned. "Is that all you want? Four drinks?" He looked pointedly at her mouth. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to bargain for more."

"That's all I can have," she said.

Cedric sighed. "All right then. Drinks it is."

Their one thousand galleons separated, he split the one bag into two, and filled them.

"Shall I find your boyfriend, and talk to him about planning our party?"

"Yes, thank you."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Here you go. Five hundred galleons exactly. What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know," Rose said, hefting the bag in her hand. It was heavy. "Maybe I'll buy something outrageous that I don't need. What about you?"

"I've always been jealous of your Firebolt," he admitted. "I think I ought to have one."

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

:: :: :: ::

Rose was finally released from the hospital wing on Saturday evening after much begging, and all but ran up to Gryffindor Tower when she was free.

She asked George what she should wear, wondering if they'd gone with a different party theme (though they wouldn't have had the time to charm the Chamber anew). They hadn't, so Rose threw on her favorite top and a short skirt, grabbed her Little Miss England crown, because she felt like being ostentatious, and skipped merrily down to the Chamber of Secrets.

The party was in full swing when she arrived.

People whispered when they saw her, and she wondered why until she remembered that the whole wizarding world knew what had happened in the graveyard. Rose smiled, affected the grace of a queen, and strutted over to where Cedric was hoisting the Triwizard Cup over his head.

He laughed when he saw her crown.

"Don't you go stealing my thunder, Diggory," she said, pointing a finger at him.

"Never!" he cried, and she realized that everyone had started drinking without her.

Rose danced with George, and they kissed by the statue of Salazar Slytherin again.

"I'm glad you're all right," he said.

"It was all you, you know. If you and Fred hadn't taught me that obnoxious spell…" She shook her head. "I wouldn't have been able to get away otherwise."

"Well, I'm glad we did," he said, and then cleared his throat. "Enough of this. We're meant to be snogging in a dark corner before I allow you to rejoin your party."

"Then kiss me, George Weasley."

He did.

Later on, she was dragged up onto the stone plinth by Fleur (of all people), to stand with her, Viktor and Cedric, and they were forced to sing, ' _We Are the Champions_ ', by a chanting, drunken crowd of party goers.

"I am zorry I wuz so rude to you," Fleur said afterward, her English worse than ever. "Vee can both be beautiful, no?"

"Of course we can," Rose said, and hugged her.

"Zeez boys," Fleur said, gesturing dismissively to the crowd below them, many glazed eyes turned their way, "zey are so easy. Vee veren't even keesing."

Rose laughed.

:: :: :: ::

At the end of term feast, Dumbledore explained to the students that Voldemort was indeed back. They already knew this from Rita Skeeter's article, but the Minister of Magic was denying it, saying there were no signs that You-Know-Who had returned, nor that the Death Eaters had been reformed.

He all but called Rose a liar.

Dumbledore warned the students to be wary, to keep supporting each other, and to embrace the friendships that had been made between the competing schools.

Rose thought it was quite a nice speech.

The train ride to London that year was quiet. Rose was soaking in her last moments with George before the summer began. Ginny had come back from meeting Blaise wearing a dark expression, and wouldn't say anything other than, "Bastard," when asked what was the matter. Hermione was struggling with whether or not she would visit Viktor in Bulgaria over the summer. And George, Fred and Lee Jordan were conversing in low tones about the twins proposed joke shop.

Despite the pensiveness of her friends, Rose hoped that there would be more train rides like this one. That nothing, not Voldemort, not Death Eaters, nothing, would ever take away peaceful moments like this one.

George felt her sigh, and kissed her hair. Rose closed her eyes.


	8. Year Five, Part 1

“Shut up, you old hag!” Sirius yelled, trying to yank the curtains closed over his mother’s portrait.

“You know,” Rose said over the din, “some turpentine would clear that problem right up!”  Mrs. Black screeched incoherently at her.  “That’s right, you bitch,” Rose said nastily, “I’m going to head right out to the _Muggle_ paint store, and—“

The curtains flew shut, and Sirius raised an eyebrow at her.

“While I won’t argue that my mother is a bitch, I feel I ought to scold you for your language.”

Rose waved a hand.  “If you start minding your language around me, I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds fair,” he said, and went towards the kitchen door.  “I fucking hate this house.”

“At least we don’t have to live here,” she said, following him.

“I feel like we are,” he said darkly.

Sirius’s childhood home was being used as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, a vigilante group headed up by Professor Dumbledore that was dedicated to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but the house was in terrible shape, and the house elf sucked, so it was down to the members of the Order to clean up the house in their spare time.  Rose wasn’t in the Order, as she was too young, so she had nothing _but_ spare time.

Sirius had told her that Arthur and Molly Weasley had joined the Order, and were going to be moving their whole family into the house later that week.  Rose was ecstatic at the possibility of seeing Ginny, George, and Fred on a daily basis, and Sirius had threatened to outfit her with a chastity belt.

Unfortunately, this also meant that Rose had to get five bedrooms in serviceable condition before they arrived.  She was geared up for a day of cleaning, armed with her wand (Grimmauld Place was so well hidden that the Ministry wouldn’t notice her using any magic, and Sirius thought the ‘no underage magic’ law applied to _other_ people, certainly not his goddaughter), a book of household cleaning spells, and a handkerchief tied over her hair.

But first, she was going to have lunch.

“Ooh, curry!” she said, entering the kitchen where Remus was unpacking paper boxes from a plastic bag.

“I don’t suppose we have any clean forks,” Remus said.

“No.  We haven’t gotten to the kitchen yet.”

“Ah, well,” he handed over a plastic fork.

The three of them dug in, and as usual, discussed what was on the agenda for the day.  “Rose is going to tackle the bedrooms,” Sirius said.  “We need to go through the library, and get rid of the darker volumes…”

Remus nodded.  “You’ll be careful, won’t you, Rose?  The grandfather clock on the second floor flung gears at me as I passed it yesterday.”

“I saw those,” she said.  The gears had been embedded in the opposite wall like ninja throwing stars.  “I had to pull them out, and then fix the damned clock.”

“It let you?” Sirius asked.

“You just have to know how to talk to it,” Rose said.  It had taken a lot of sweet words and cooing, but the clock had allowed Rose to open it up and fiddle with its insides.  It now ticked happily when she passed.  By any standards, the Black house was weird.

“I don’t suppose you cussed that out too?”

“Of course not,” she said primly.

Rose finished her lunch, and went to the bedroom she decided would be Ginny’s.  It was a small room, but it had a pretty stained glass window that opened onto a small ledge that looked down on the garden.  Rose thought it might be nice for putting potted plants on.

She began by banishing the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, and held her t-shirt over her nose to keep the dust out.  Then a scouring charm on the window, which she threw open wide.

She bundled up the bedding, and tossed it in the hall.  What was on the bed was so moth eaten and dusty that Rose doubted any amount of magic could make it useable.  She consulted her book of household charms to find one that would clean a mattress, because when she’d sat on it dust had flown up in a cloud.

As she paged through the book, taking her sweet time, the door creaked open and the lazy house elf wandered in.

“It’s the half-blood brat my Master claims as his own,” he muttered.

“’Lo Kreacher,” she replied, well used to this.  He was a mannerless layabout for a house elf, but Rose supposed that if she had a mistress like Mrs. Black’s portrait for ten lonely years she would be a mannerless layabout too.

He started poking around the room, as though checking she was doing the cleaning correctly.  Rose had been trying to get him to help, as she thought it might make him happier to be doing what house elves loved to do, but none of her pointed comments had penetrated the thick hair tufting out of Kreacher’s ears.

“Can you believe the state of this place, Kreacher?” she asked.  “You’d think the members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would take better care of it.”

This kind of statement always got Kreacher riled.

“It is the house elves job to keep up the house, Master’s brat.”

“Hmm,” Rose said.  “Maybe the Black house elves don’t find their house to be as 'Noble' as it once was.”

“It is Noble!”

“Doesn’t look it.  _Someone’s_ not going to get their head chopped off and put on a plaque.”

“Kreacher will!” he insisted.  “Kreacher is loyal to the house of Black!”

“I don’t know,” she said airily.  “Sirius isn’t very happy with your performance, is he?”

Kreacher ducked his head and scuffed his toes on the rug.  “Master was always a disappointment to my dear Mistress,” he muttered darkly.

“I expect he was,” Rose agreed.  “But that doesn’t change the fact that he is your master now, and he’s the only one who can give you the place of honor you deserve when you die.”

Kreacher grumbled inaudibly.

Rose paged through her book, pretending that she wasn’t interested in what Kreacher would say next.

“If Kreacher cleans the kitchen," the elf asked slowly, "will Master’s brat give Kreacher something?” 

Rose snapped the book shut, and got down on a knee in front of Kreacher.  “The kitchen _and_ the bathrooms.”

He eyed her shrewdly.  “Kreacher agrees.”

“No clothes!”

“Kreacher doesn’t want clothes!”

“Deal,” Rose agreed.  “What do you want?”

“There is a locket…”

So began Rose’s dealings with Kreacher, whereby he would clean the house in exchange for Black family heirlooms.  Rose saved the lot from Sirius’s attempted purge, locked them in a trunk in the attic, and dealt them out accordingly.

:: :: :: ::

The Daily Prophet was rife with stories about Rose that summer.  The front page and society pages reported seeing her in every high profile night club in the wizarding world.  Apparently, Rose was living it up, drinking herself to oblivion every weekend, and snogging every attractive male she could get her hands on.

Rose _wished_ she were having that much fun.

“What is going _on?_ ” she asked one morning at breakfast, tossing the paper away.  They’d gotten a photo of her this time, in some dark club, her skin glistening with sweat, wearing an outfit entirely made of black leather, and grinding up against a man who had to be at least twenty-five years old.  “Who _is_ this girl?  And why is she pretending to be me?  And who would believe I’d ever wear something like _that?_   It makes me look like a whore, and not even an expensive one.”

Sirius looked, grimaced, and turned the paper over.  “I know it’s not you, but I can’t look at that while I’m eating my breakfast.”

“Who believes you’d let me out of the house wearing that?”  Rose looked at the photo again, conceded that her body did look kind of hot in that costume, but Merlin.  Now the whole wizarding world knew exactly what she was hiding under her robes!

“Morons,” Sirius answered.  “I don’t even know if I like what you’ve got on now.”

It was a simple tank top and jeans.  Rose just looked at him.  “If you had it your way I’d go around in a sack with a bag over my head.”

Sirius considered this, probably imagining the glare she’d give him before he dropped the bag over her face, and barked out a laugh.  “Oh, would you?”

Rose snarled.  “She’s making me look like some kind of… Slut Who Lived to Party!”

“We’ve got some Order members who work in the Ministry,” Sirius said.  “They think the Minister’s office is trying to discredit you.”

“So, I’m a drunk slut who was intoxicated when she saw ‘Voldemort’ return?”  Rose made air quotes.

“I know it sucks, Rosie.  They’re trying to figure out who’s behind it.”

“I know how!” she cried.  “I go to one of these damn clubs and I yank the bitch out by her hair!”

“Oi, with the language,” Sirius said mildly.  “That was my first instinct, but I was shouted down.”

“Oh, geez.”  If she was going to start reacting to things like Sirius did, which was generally like a nutcase, then she had more problems than some imposter giving her a reputation.

“They're trying to find out who the imposter is, but they doubt she's a member of the Ministry.  They want to find whoever is paying her, and expose them.  It’s the only way to clear your reputation, and will discredit the Minister's claims at the same time.”

Rose sighed miserably.  “Should I make some kind of statement?  Should we get the Black lawyers to put a gag on the Prophet?”  The last one excited her.  She relished the idea of pissing off Rita Skeeter.

“No to the first.  And I’ve already talked to the lawyers.  There’s nothing illegal about what the Prophet is doing… unfortunately.  As far as they know that _is_ you.  But I’ve filed a report with the Auror department, so it’s an official investigation, at least.”

That was something, Rose supposed, but dreaded what her classmates would say to her when she went back to Hogwarts.  She had a feeling that she would be longing for the return of ‘Princess Potter’ comments.

:: :: :: ::

The Weasleys arrived that day at Grimmauld Place.  Rose had been so excited for their arrival, but Ginny was the only one who was glad to see her.

George stepped out of the fire, looked at her, winced, and asked Remus where his room was.  He was pointed the direction of the staircase, and told that he couldn’t miss it, because Rose had made signs for the doors.

Rose gaped after him, as she’d been expecting a _much_ warmer welcome, and not a complete brush off.  “What?” she said.

“It’s those articles,” Ginny said.  “He knows they’re not true.  I’ve told him again and again, but I think they’re messing with his head.”

“But—“ Rose said helplessly.

Fred shrugged at her, and followed his brother up the stairs.

“Come on, Rose,” Ginny said.  “Show me to my room.”

Rose led Ginny up to her pretty bedroom.  Rose had gotten flowers to put on the windowsill (having Kreacher do the grunt work left time for Rose to take care of the homey touches), and had charmed the walls an airy blue, and the sheets and comforter were a crisp white.  Rose sat on Ginny’s bed, half listening to her friend gush about how much she liked her room, and wondered what she was going to do.

“Hey,” Ginny said, sitting next to her.  “Just talk to him.  I’m sure he’ll be fine once he hears it from you that it’s not really you in the papers.”

“How could he think I’d do that to him?”  Rose conveniently forgot about the kiss she’d gotten from Cedric, which she hadn’t objected to at all. And which she hadn’t breathed a word about to anyone.

“It will be fine,” Ginny assured her.

But it wasn’t fine.  George didn’t want to talk to her.

Even George’s mother, who had liked Rose ever since she’d saved Ginny’s life in the Chamber of Secrets, was giving her the cold shoulder.  And Rose was sure Mrs. Weasley _knew_ that it wasn’t her in the newspapers!

Fred didn’t have much to say to her either, obviously sticking with his twin on this one, though he did talk to her before she left for the evening.

“He’s just a bit unsettled by it,” Fred explained.  “All summer he’s been seeing photos of his girlfriend with other blokes, and while he knows that it’s not you in those photos, now he knows how it would feel if it _were_ you.”

“But it’s not me!”

“I know, Rose, and he does too.  He’ll come around.  You’ll see.”

Rose wasn’t so sure.  She’d never known George to hold a grudge like this.  If he was upset with someone he’d lash out with an embarrassing prank.  She wished he’d turn her hair yellow already, and get it out of his system.

:: :: :: ::

The Weasley children quickly grew bored of being stuck inside Grimmauld Place every day, and so devised ways to spy on the Order meetings.  Rose usually heard from Sirius and Remus the basics of what had been discussed in the meetings, and knew that they were largely boring things in which the adults argued for hours on end about what should be done, and how it should be done, and if it should be done at all.

Rose got bored even with Sirius’s brief explanations, and had already decided that Girl Who Lived or no, she wasn’t going to join up when she came of age.  Rose was a Lone Wolf, she needed no bureaucracy; she worked alone.  She’d said this to Remus once, and he’d laughed and laughed.

One day, while the Big Chill was still in effect, the Weasleys were on the upper landing with some Extendable Ears trying to listen in on the adults, and Rose was trying to make a deal with Kreacher.

“Kreacher might do it,” he said, examining his nails.

“What will it take?” Rose asked, gritting her teeth.

“Kreacher doesn’t know.  Does Master’s brat still have the picture of Master Regulus in the silver frame?”

“Master’s brat might,” she allowed.

“Kreacher will take down Mistress’s portrait if Master’s brat gives him the picture and Master Regulus’s ink well.”

“His ink well?”

“Kreacher can change his mind…”

“Oh, fine.  Deal.”

Rose dug through the trunk for the agreed upon payment.  Kreacher reached for the photo.  “Oh, no.  You’ll get them when Mrs. Black’s portrait is up in the attic.”

“Master’s brat never said anything about _moving_ my Mistress’s portrait.”

“I’ll throw in Regulus’s fountain pen.”

“Kreacher accepts.”

With a simple snap of his fingers Mrs. Black’s portrait dropped off the wall, her shrieks muffled as the frame fell face down on the floor.  Another snap of his fingers, and the portrait was popped to the attic.  Rose could hear her outraged screams echoing around up there.

She put the lot into Kreacher’s greedy hands, and he wobbled away, cackling to himself.

“That house elf creeps me out,” said George.

Rose whirled around.  “Are you talking to me now?”

He looked sheepish.  “Ginny smacked some sense into me.  Literally.”

“Oh, good.  Kreacher’s not that bad, really.  You just have to know how to speak his language.”

“He’s awful to you.  Why do you let him call you that?”

“Master’s brat?” she asked, and shrugged.  “I kind of like it.”

He shook his head, smiling.  “Look, Rose, I’m really sorry.  I knew it wasn’t you in the newspapers, but every time I saw you with those other guys I just got so… angry and jealous.  I didn’t like it.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do.  Whoever she is, she’s making me look like a tramp.”

He came closer and wrapped his fingers around her upper arms.  “It’s awful,” he agreed.  “Do you forgive me?”

Rose answered by going up on her toes and kissing him.  It started out a sweet press of lips, but turned into something else very quickly.  George dropped one arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her body to his, and the other went to the back of her neck, trapping her in the kiss.  Rose whimpered and tried to get closer.

Oooh, she had missed kissing.

They only broke apart when they heard Fred, Ron and Ginny catcalling at them from the landing below.

“Bugger off,” George said, and pulled her into the library, shutting the door behind them.

:: :: :: ::

“What are you wearing?” George laughed.

“Too much?” she asked, giving a twirl.

Today was Rose’s first trip to Diagon Alley since the articles had started.  She was determined not to give the press any ammunition against her, and had dressed conservatively: a pleated skirt, opaque tights, a sweater set, and a strand of pearls.  She looked like a proper English schoolgirl.  Not a clubbing tramp.

George flicked her necklace.  “Yes.  This outfit screams guilt.”

Rose looked to Ginny, because what did George know?  He was a boy.  But Ginny was obviously holding back laughter.

“Oh, fine.”

She changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and Rose, the Weasleys, Sirius, and Tonks made the trip to Diagon Alley.

It was mayhem.

The Daily Prophet had obviously been on the lookout for her, and she was mobbed by reporters in front of Flourish and Blotts.  They shouted out questions over each other, so Rose couldn’t make out what anyone was saying.  George planted himself at her side, and they shouted questions at him too.

“How do you feel about your girlfriend’s nighttime forays?”

“Are you still together?”

“Why haven’t you chucked her yet?”

“Rose, what do you have to say to your fans?”

“Rose, what do you have to say to the children who look to you as a role model?”

“Rose—“

“Rose—“

“Rose—“

Sirius was trying to break up the mob, and Rose noticed her Auror/Order guard, Tonks, attempting the same, but there was no getting out of this one.

So instead she held up a hand and yelled, “One at a time!”  They stopped yelling for a moment, perhaps surprised that she was actually going to answer questions, and then began yelling for her attention again.

“No, no, no!” she yelled.  “Now, shush, or no one is getting a quote!”  Rose pointed at a short blond man in the front of the mob.  “You.  What’s your question?”

She answered questions for fifteen minutes, saying only that someone had been impersonating her at the clubs, and that there was an ongoing Auror investigation into the incidents.  She said nothing of the Order’s suspicions that someone in the Minister’s office was to blame.

She answered a few more questions about Voldemort’s resurrection, and then said, “All right guys, I’ve got school shopping to do, and we’re blocking the door to Flourish and Blotts.  My classmates won’t be happy with me if they can’t get their books.”

The reporters, appeased for the moment, dispersed quickly, and Rose sagged against George.

“You were great just now,” he said.

“I want to go home,” Rose moaned.

“That’s probably best,” Tonks said.  “Give me your shopping list.  I’ll get the rest of it for you.”

“Thank you, Tonks,” she said gratefully.

“Just hold on a sec,” she said, looking critically at Rose’s body.  “I can get your robes if I…”  She scrunched up her nose, and Rose noticed a subtle change going on under Tonks’s Auror robes.  “There!  Now they’ll fit perfectly.”

Sirius took her back to their house in the Royal Crescent, and they spent the day in Muggle London, where Rose was just another pretty face, and she could go shopping without being mobbed.

Sometimes, she thought, she’d like to chuck it all and just stay in the Muggle world.

:: :: :: ::

“Hey, it’s the Girl Who Lived to Party!”

“You’re wearing a bit more clothing than you’re used to, aren’t you, Potter?”

“Somebody get Potter a hangover draught!  She looks wrecked!”

“Slut.”

This what Rose heard as she pushed through her classmates to board the train to Hogwarts.

“Just… ignore them,” Ginny said through clenched teeth, though her wand was in her hand.  “Forget it, I’m gonna fucking hex the next person who says something.”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley!” her mother shrieked.  “Language!  And put your wand away.”

Ginny sighed, but did as she was told.

The Daily Prophet had reported on what Rose had said at her impromptu press conference, but it seemed no one believed her, least of all the Daily Prophet.  This might have had something to do with them running that article side by side with a new report on what Rose’s imposter had been up to later that same evening.

The imposter had upped the ante, and someone had Polyjuiced into George.  The photo showed Imposter Rose in the same skimpy leather outfit that she’d been in before, clenched in a passionate lip lock with Imposter George.  The couple in the photo had grown quite amorous, and showed them breaking apart only to have Imposter Rose pounce, and the couple fall out of frame.

Sometimes, Rose hated wizarding photographs.

George didn’t hate this one.  His eyes glazed over whenever he looked at it, and he expressed an interest in re-creating the scene.

Rose said her goodbyes to Remus and Sirius, who told her to keep her chin up, and to hex anybody who pissed her off, respectively.

Rose and Ginny ran into Hermione, who hugged them both and said she couldn’t chat because she had to get to the prefect’s compartment.  “I’ll find you later!” she called, already hurrying away.

The train was full, and the girls had trouble finding a compartment.

“Hey, Potter,” Rose heard from a familiar grating voice, “what does your boyfriend—“

Ginny snarled out a spell, and Rose turned to see Pansy Parkinson start shrieking as bats exploded from her nose.  Rose raised an eyebrow at Ginny, who just shrugged.

“I warned them,” said Ginny, unapologetic.

“Yeah, but I don’t think anyone but your mother and I heard you.”

People were staring fearfully between Ginny’s drawn wand and Pansy’s shrieking face.  “That goes for the rest of you,” Ginny said.  “If I hear just one more _bloody_ _word_ —“

They scattered.

“I think you’re my hero,” said Rose.

They eventually found seats with Neville and a girl in Ginny’s year named Luna Lovegood.  Rose was quite fond of Luna’s father’s magazine, which Sirius subscribed to.  They liked to spend Sunday mornings rating the bizarreness of the articles; the scale went from kooky to batshit.

George and Fred came into the compartment some time later, both wearing dark expressions.  “There you are,” George said, throwing himself down beside Rose.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said shortly.

Rose looked to Fred, who said, “People have been saying things…”

George stood and threw out a fist, punching the wall.  “Bloody lot of—“

“Oh.”

If what they had been saying to Rose was any indication, she could easily guess what people had been saying to George.  His girlfriend was a cheating hussy, after all, and why would he put up with that?

“We’ll take care of them, Rose,” Fred assured her.  “We have a number of special items that need testing, and they’ve all just offered themselves up as test subjects.”  He grinned an evil grin.

Rose smiled wanly back, and privately doubted that pranks would help.

:: :: :: ::

Hermione was happily buzzing about prefect duties at dinner, and how glad she was that Cedric Diggory had been made Head Boy.

“He has a lot of really excellent ideas,” she said.  “I think this is going to be a great year!”

Rose wished she could agree with the last.

Hermione abruptly changed her tune when the new DADA professor gave a speech.  Rose eyed the pink cardigan and matching Alice band, and knew immediately that she and Professor Umbridge wouldn’t get along.  Aside from being an unattractive individual with a grating voice, she was obviously dressing under the false assumption that she was eight years old.  And oh, she could go on and on.

“All right, Hermione,” she said when Umbridge had finished her speech.  “What was she saying?”

“You weren’t paying attention?”

“If I’d paid attention to that woman I would have had to stab my ears with my fork.  Did she say anything worthwhile?”

“The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.”

Rose eyed the toad-like woman with distaste.  “Great.”

:: :: :: ::

The next morning at breakfast, several seventh year boys fell down in a dead faint.  Fred and George feigned disinterest, but Rose heard them talking about sneaking into the hospital wing later to see how long it took for them to wake up.

George kissed Rose goodbye and wished her luck in her lessons.  “Make me a list of people who say anything to you,” he suggested.  “I want everyone to know that it’s not okay to mess with my girlfriend.”

Rose smiled, feeling as though she would start crying in gratitude, and hugged him tightly.  “I can handle them,” she said.

“Your method of ‘handling’ is to grin and bear it,” George protested.  “My method involves humiliation and a small amount of pain.  If you don’t tell me I’ll just get their names from Ginny.”

“You bloodthirsty Weasleys,” Rose teased.

“Hey, George—“ someone called, and George’s wand came out, quick as lightning, and the speaker was suddenly a very large, very yellow, very surprised canary.  George grinned at Rose.  “See?”

“Yeah, I see,” Rose said with a wince.  “You’re trigger happy.  That was Lee.”

Rose left her boyfriend to sort his friend out, and went to History of Magic with Hermione.  Every year Rose hoped that Professor Binns would learn to speak in something other than a monotone, and every year she was disappointed.  However, this meant she got in a nice morning nap every Monday for the rest of the year, which she couldn’t complain about.

They ran into Cedric in the courtyard after class as they were heading to Potions.  The courtyard was crowded with students going to and from class though it was drizzling, so news got around quickly that Cedric Diggory was backing up Rose’s claim that Voldemort was back.

“Hey there, Rose,” he called, and greeted her with a grin.  “Can you believe these prats don’t believe you about _You-Know-Who_ being back?  That bloody bastard nearly killed me!”  He said this in a loud voice, and several people gasped and ducked, as though Voldemort had nothing better to do than swoop down on unsuspecting students.

“No, Cedric, I can’t believe it,” she responded in an equally loud voice.  “They’re a bunch of idiots who are going to get themselves killed because, like the Ministry, they are determined to hide their heads in the sand and ignore the fact that _Lord Voldemort_ is back!”

There were squeaks of terror, and Rose smiled viciously after them.

Cedric chuckled.

“How are you doing?” he asked, speaking normally now that the courtyard had cleared.

“I’m all right.  You?”

“Fine.  Just frustrated with the lot of them.  They don’t want to believe me any more than they want to believe you.  I’ve got people saying that we might have had some kind of ‘shared hallucination,’ or that you slipped me something… I’ve been giving detentions to anyone who says anything, uh, nasty about you.”

Rose felt herself flush, and scowled.  “I can’t believe how a few newspaper articles could completely wreck my life.  Fame is _so_ fickle,” she tried to laugh, but it came out sounding false.

“The Aurors will find out who is behind it,” he assured her.

Cedric had written to her after the article with the photo had been front page, asking if it was true, and if she’d broken up with George.  His tone had been concerned, yet hopeful.  Rose had told him the truth, and also about the suspicion that someone was trying to discredit her.  Cedric had been properly outraged.

Rose waited with Hermione in the hall outside the Potions classroom, and hoped that Cedric wouldn’t get too much grief for being on her side.  He was universally liked by the students and teachers, and Rose knew the Diggorys were a popular family with the rest of the wizarding world as well.  Cedric’s father worked for the Ministry… would he get in trouble at work if it was known that his son was siding with the Girl Who Lived to Party?

“What are you _on_ today, Potter?” Pansy asked, snapping her fingers in Rose’s face.  “I hear fairy dust is some wicked stuff.  Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Rose frowned, having no idea what fairy dust did outside of a Disney movie, and she rather thought that wasn’t a good judge of what real fairy dust was capable.

The Slytherins snickered.

“You probably wouldn’t know, Potter,” Pansy said, voice full of faux concern, “what with being _Muggle raised_ and all, but the wizarding world has programs to help those like yourself with addictions to dangerous substances.  Fairy dust withdrawal is no laughing matter…”

The Slytherins laughed anyway.  Rose looked for Draco’s face in the crowd.  Pansy usually didn’t have a go at her if Draco was around—but there he was.  Laughing.

Rose could easily pick his laugh out from the rest now, because it was remarkably like his father’s laugh.  And Rose would never forget that voice laughing at her as she was contorting and screaming on the ground…  How his hands had pushed her back towards Voldemort, knowing what fate awaited her…

She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseous.  The faces and the sounds of the laughing Slytherins distorted, like someone shaking a sheet of metal.  She swayed, and Hermione caught her up.  “Rose!  Are you all right?”

“I need—I need—Hermione, get me out of here.”

Hermione didn’t even make a protest about missing class.  She just put her arm around Rose’s waist and led her away.  The Slytherins laughed harder than ever behind them, and Rose heard the Gryffindors begin yelling back.

Hermione took Rose to the nearest bathroom, and tried to get Rose to sit on the sinks, but Rose sunk to the floor, her chest feeling tight, and breathing became difficult.  She shut her eyes, and pressed her hands to her chest, gasping.

She felt a cold cloth on her forehead, and Hermione’s voice from far away.  “Rose, you’re having a panic attack.  You need to breathe.”  Hermione coaxed her to breathe in and then out, and after several minutes the pressure lessened, and Rose dropped her head back against the sinks.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked worriedly.  “What was that about?”

Rose felt very stupid, but said, “Draco was laughing at me.”

“Oh, Rose.”

“He sounds like his father when he laughs.  Lucius laughed at me in the graveyard while Voldemort tortured me.”

Hermione made a sympathetic face, and hugged her.

It wasn’t just that, but by laughing Draco had announced which side he’d chosen, and Rose was heartbroken.

:: :: :: ::


	9. Year Five, Part 2

  


 Rose probably should have gone to the hospital wing as Hermione suggested, and gotten a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey.  If she had, she might have been able to keep her mouth shut in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

But then again, maybe not.  Hermione was geared up for a fight, which put Rose in a supportive frame of mind, and then Professor Umbridge had the absolute gall to call her godfather (for all intents and purposes) a _half-breed_.

Dean Thomas had interjected, “If you’re talking about Professor Lupin, he—“

“Is my _godfather!_ ” Rose said, rising out of her seat, so angry she was shaking with it.

“Miss Potter, take your seat!”

“I will not hear _slurs_ against Remus, and just sit down and take it!”

Umbridge changed tactics, and smiled sadly at her.  “I understand that you’ve led a troubled life, Miss Potter,” she said, in a tone suited to gently scolding a five year old, “and that perhaps the pressure of your celebrity is too much for a young girl to handle.  I’ve spoken to the Headmaster about getting you help for your problems.  Now, sit down, dear.  You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Rose sat, stunned into silence.  Beside her, Hermione let out a little ‘ohhh’ that meant Hermione was thinking about doing something very vindictive to Dolores Umbridge.

Umbridge went on about the curriculum, and explained the many reasons why they would not need to practice the spells they would be learning.

Parvati asked about OWL’s, and Umbridge explained that so long as they’d studied the theory, there was no reason why they wouldn’t be able to perform the spells properly come OWL’s.

Rose, having gained back her anger, said, “What good is theory going to be to us in the real world?”

“This is school, Miss Potter.  Not the real world,” she explained patiently.

“So we’re not meant to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?”

“There is nothing waiting out there.  Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?”  Her voice was honeyed and terrible, and Rose wanted to hex her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rose said, trying to sound offhand, “maybe _Lord Voldemort?_ ”

Rose ignored the gasps and shrieks of horror, and just locked eyes with Umbridge.  The woman looked oddly satisfied.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter.

“I’ve said all along that someone needed to take you in hand.  Your current guardians are obviously not looking out for your interests, and have let you run wild.  You need help, Miss Potter.  The hallucinogenic effects of many wizarding substances must be quite attractive to a girl in your position.”  She laughed sweetly, and looked pityingly at Rose.  “But Miss Potter, their effects are just that.  Hallucinogenic.  What you saw was not real, my dear.”

Hermione wrapped her hand around Rose’s wrist under the table, her nails biting into Rose’s skin.  Neither of them could believe what they were hearing.

“You think I’m a drug addict,” Rose said.  “You think I was _high_ when I saw Voldemort come back.”

“I _know_ you were.  Your exploits this summer were not exactly discreet, my dear.”  She gave a little laugh.  “No doubt your Triwizard earnings have been frittered away on fairy dust.”

“Oh my God,” Hermione muttered beside her.

“How do you explain Cedric Diggory’s story then?” Rose demanded.  “Cedric was there, in the graveyard!  He was nearly killed!”

“Mr. Diggory was obviously confused that night.  You were both injured terribly in the Tournament.  Perhaps he was influenced by your tale.”

Rose couldn’t believe her.  “We were not addled!  I was not on drugs!  I didn’t even know fairy dust _was_ a drug until today!”

Umbridge shook her head sadly, and went to her desk.

“Come here, Miss Potter,” she said kindly.

Rose stood, exchanging a look with Hermione, and slowly approached Umbridge’s desk.  She wrote a note on a bit of pink parchment.  “Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear.”

Rose took it with numb fingers, and looked at her classmates.  She couldn’t tell what they were thinking, or whether they believed Umbridge’s story that Rose was hopelessly addicted to mind-altering substances that made her see terrible things that weren’t there.

Hermione’s eyes were calculating as she eyed the professor.  Rose hoped that Hermione’s revenge was swift and vicious.

Rose didn’t remember the walk to McGonagall’s office, nor knocking on the door.  “Miss Potter?  Why are you not in class?” McGonagall asked, when she opened the door.

“I’ve been sent to see you,” Rose said dully.  She handed McGonagall the note, which she read, her eyes narrowing with each line.  She ushered Rose into the office, and Rose dropped into a chair in front of McGonagall’s desk.

Her mind was an utter blank.  The Gryffindors, who wouldn’t know how to be discreet if their lives depended on it, would spread Umbridge’s accusations around the school by dinnertime.  The Slytherins already believed it.

Rose put her head in her hands, uncaring of McGonagall seeing her break down, and tried to breathe.  She had thought things were as bad as they could get with the articles, but now…

“Have a biscuit, Miss Potter,” said McGonagall.

Rose raised her head and just stared at her.  McGonagall shook the tin at her.  Rose took a cookie, and obediently bit into it.

“They’re delicious,” she said, not tasting it.

“You need to be careful,” McGonagall said.  “Keep your head down in Professor Umbridge’s class.  She could cause more problems for you than this.”

“What more could she do to me?” Rose asked, gesturing with the cookie.  “It was bad enough with the articles, but now I’m a drug addict who’s cracking under the pressure of her fame—“

“I know it seems bad, Miss Potter, but it could get worse.  You know who Dolores Umbridge is reporting to.  You know what the danger is.”

Rose nodded miserably.

“You have detention with Professor Umbridge on Friday evening… She’s also requested that you meet with a Ministry approved councilor to speak about your substance abuse problem.”

“She what?” Rose choked.  “She can’t do that, can she?”

McGonagall looked very sorry.  “She can’t, no.  It falls to a student’s Head of House to deal with problems like this.”

“But I don’t _have_ a substance abuse problem!”

“I know that, Miss Potter,” she said impatiently.  “I will secure a suitable councilor, and you will speak to her on Wednesday evening in my office.”

Rose gaped.  Opened her mouth and shut it again.  “But Professor!  What will I _talk_ to this person about?  I don’t actually have a problem – other than all the wretched lies going around about me!”

“I expect you to say exactly the thing you’ve just said to me.  You have done nothing wrong, Miss Potter.  I am aware this is unpleasant, but we must pick our battles with Dolores Umbridge.  Do you understand?”  Rose nodded.  McGonagall shook the tin at her again.  “Take another biscuit, and go to dinner.”

Rose, who couldn’t believe she’d been so betrayed by McGonagall, took a cookie and left.

:: :: :: ::

 “But Rose, are you sure you weren’t… I don’t know… dosed?” Lavender asked.

“Did you drink anything that had been left unattended?” Parvati asked.  “You should know better!”

Rose reminded herself that Lavender and Parvati meant well, but they were just the latest in a long line of well-meaning people, who just wanted to make sure… 

The girls were dressed for bed.  Ginny and Hermione had been commiserating with Rose about her upcoming detention and meeting with the substance abuse councilor, when Lavender and Parvati had interrupted.

“I didn’t drink anything suspicious that day!” said Rose.  “I’d been with Sirius and Remus all day, and I’m certain I would have known if I’d been hallucinating during the Third Task.  I bloody _won_ , didn’t I?”

“You tied,” said Ginny, sotto voce.

“Tied, whatever,” Rose said.  “I was not high!  I saw him come back!  Cedric was there!  Why don’t you believe Cedric, at least?  You know he’d never lie!”

Lavender and Parvati winced.  “But Rose—“

“You know me!” Rose insisted.  “You know that I’m not going to lie about something like this!  If I can’t convince you two, then…” She threw up her hands.  “Well, then I can’t convince anybody.”

Ginny opened her mouth to say something scathing to Lavender and Parvati, but Rose shook her head.  “No, don’t… just…  I just want to go to bed.  This day needs to be over.”

“It’s going to be all right, Rose,” said Ginny.  “You’ve got me and Hermione.  Don’t forget that.”

That night Rose dreamed again of the long dark corridor.  There was something she wanted here, but she could not get to it.  She wandered endlessly through darkened hallways, but all the doors were locked, and every path turned to a dead end.  She woke with a prickling pain in her scar, and a burning feeling of frustration.

:: :: :: ::

“—such a slut,” Rose heard from the Slytherin table as she left the Great Hall with Ginny on Tuesday evening.

“Can you believe Weasley hasn’t chucked her?”

“I wouldn’t put up with it.”

Ginny growled, hand straying towards her pocket for her wand.  Rose put out a hand to stop her.  “Just leave it, Gin,” she said tonelessly.

Ginny sighed, and they kept walking up to Gryffindor Tower.  Rose couldn’t count how many times she had heard something similar over the past two days, but if Ginny had her way half of the school would be battling bat-bogeys.  Not that Rose wasn’t horribly tempted…

They rounded a corner, and Rose smiled.  George was lingering in the hallway outside the door to a boys’ bathroom, probably waiting for Fred.  He leaned against the opposite wall, looking at the floor, and ran a hand through his hair.

Rose thought she’d like to replace his hand with hers.  Yes, that sounded lovely.  A long snog would improve her day ten-fold.

Another boy exited the bathroom, one that Rose recognized as Cormac McClaggen, a sixth year Gryffindor.  “Hey Weasley,” he said.

George raised a hand, but not his head, seeming in deep contemplation of his shoes.

“She puts out, right?  That’s why you’re still with her.”

Rose felt her insides go cold.  She shot out a hand, grabbing Ginny’s wrist so she would stop with her.  Ginny was tensed for a fight already, and Rose couldn’t deal with it.  What she really wanted to do was turn around, take the long way back to Gryffindor Tower, and forget that she’d ever heard McClaggen say that.

George blew out a long breath and slowly raised his head.  She wondered how often he’d been asked that question that he didn’t immediately snap.  Whatever McClaggen saw in George’s face made him take a step back.  “Just asking,” he said hastily.

“Yeah,” George said harshly, bringing his wand down, sparks flying from the tip.  “You’re all ‘ _just_ _asking.’_ ”

Fred exited the bathroom and stopped short.  He frowned and sighed, like he’d seen this very thing happen several times already.  “What do you want for this one, brother mine?”

McClaggen looked between the twins, like he’d just realized that he was in for a world of pain and embarrassment.

George looked at Fred, and they must have had one of those twin telepathy moments, because Fred nodded, and turned to McClaggen.  “Live in fear,” he said shortly.  “Run along now.”

McClaggen blinked and hurried away.

Beside Rose, Ginny leapt forward and stormed towards her brothers.  “You’re just going to let him get away with saying that?” she demanded.

Rose followed her, slowly.  Her insides burned with anger and disbelief and mortification, and her mind was whirring madly.  There was no way out of the scandal she’d been thrown into by her imposter.  All she could do was wait for the gossip to die down, for someone else to become more interesting than her, but in the meantime people were being hurt.  Namely, George, and she couldn’t stand that.

She looked up at him, and he looked back, his hand going to the back of his neck.  His eyes were a dull blue, and she couldn’t help but compare how he looked now to how he’d looked at her when he’d first arrived at Grimmauld Place.

Fred and Ginny were bickering, but Rose didn’t hear them.

George held out a hand to Rose, but she didn’t take it.  She wondered how she wasn’t crying, because she knew what she was going to say to him, and she knew how much it was going to hurt.

“Break up with me,” she said.

Fred and Ginny abruptly went quiet, and she heard Ginny gasp, “No.”

George looked down at her.  The silence was terrible in the corridor.  He blinked rapidly, and shook his head.  “No.”

Rose let out a breath.  “George—“

“No, Rose.”

She looked away from him, and took a deep breath.  She wasn’t going to let him have his way.  “We’re broken up,” she said, and was surprised that her voice sounded so steady.  She felt like her insides were going to spill out of her.  “Tell everyone that you did it.”

She pushed past him, evading his hands that reached for her, and went quickly up to Gryffindor Tower, where she fell into her bed and refused to let herself cry.

:: :: :: ::

Rose regretted not allowing herself to cry the night before, because she wound up crying plenty during her meeting with the ‘Ministry approved councilor’ instead.

Healer Applebaum, a Mind-Healer from St. Mungo’s who worked with troubled teenagers, asked questions and Rose answered them dully.

She couldn’t care less about this meeting.  Let them cart her away for detox.  Let them tell the world that she was forever high on fairy dust.  Let the world muse on Rose’s trip to rehab – then at least she would have some street cred amongst the other celebrities.

Rose was sure she looked terrible.  She’d lain awake all the night before, had ignored everyone who tried to get her to open her bed curtains (Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, Angelina…).  She hadn’t gone to breakfast or to lunch, and had only eaten in the kitchens when she was sure that she would faint from low blood sugar otherwise.  And she really didn’t need to add another fainting fit to the rumors going around school.

She took solace in the fact that her behavior today added credence to the story that George had chucked her, and not the other way around… not that she’d wanted to chuck George.  It was for his own good, really.

She told herself this every time tears threatened.

“Are you certain that you’re all right, Miss Potter?” Healer Applebaum asked again.

Rose looked blankly at her.  “I’m fine.”

The Healer obviously didn’t believe her, and Rose would have been disappointed in her skills as a Mind-Healer if she had.  Instead Healer Applebaum consulted the file she had on Rose and asked, “It says here you have a boyfriend.  Would you say the relationship is a serious one?”

Rose blinked rapidly at the Healer, and to her horror began to _sob_ , huge wracking sobs that had Rose nearly choking.  It was mortifying.  The Healer’s eyes went wide, and she quickly conjured up a handkerchief.

Rose took it, and the whole story spilled out of her.  She couldn’t believe that she was telling the bloody ‘Ministry approved councilor’ this, but once she’d started she couldn’t stop.  Though it was nearly impossible to speak through all the crying she was suddenly doing.

“—all these hor-horrible li-lies— saying that I must _put out!—_ and Ge-George was just so bloody _miserable_ , and—I couldn’t st-stand it!—so I-I broke up with him!”

The Healer hushed her, and said, “There, there.”

The meeting ended shortly after that.

There was one upside to completely losing her head in the meeting.  Healer Applebaum decided that Rose didn’t have a drug addiction, but kindly informed her if she ever needed to talk to a ‘professional’ that she would make time for her.

Rose thought she might wind up having to take Healer Applebaum up on her offer if things got much worse.

:: :: :: ::

After the meeting with Healer Applebaum, Rose trudged up to Gryffindor Tower feeling oddly cleansed, but now completely exhausted.  But there was something she had to do before she let herself fall into bed.

Not finding who she was looking for in the common room, Rose went up the girls’ staircase, and stopped at the Fourth Year Girls’ dorm.  She knocked, and the door opened.  Ginny frowned upon seeing that it was Rose.

“Can I talk to you?” asked Rose.

Ginny humphed, turned away to go sit on her bed.  Not the warmest welcome ever, but she hadn’t thrown her out, so Rose went inside, shutting the door behind her.

“You’re mad at me?” Rose guessed.

Ginny opened her mouth, looking like she was going to snap, but then she really _looked_ at Rose, and her shoulders sagged.  “No,” she said.  “Get over here.”

Rose crawled across Ginny’s bed and put her head in her lap.  Ginny tugged on Rose’s hair.  “Sometimes I just wanna—“ she pulled a little harder than necessary, and Rose winced.  “He’s about as miserable as you look, you know?”

Rose covered her eyes with an arm.  “It’s for his own good.  He shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Merlin, you’re an idiot…” Ginny sighed. “You’re not going to get back together, are you?”  She sounded sad.

“No.”  Rose sniffed, tears threatening once more.  Ginny carded her fingers through her hair, and handed her a tissue.  Rose nodded her thanks, and looked up at Ginny.  “You’re still my friend, right?”

“Yes.  Always.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose was absolutely certain that what Dolores Umbridge called a ‘detention’ was illegal.  She stood outside the toad’s office, and looked at her hand which now read in bloody script, “I must not tell lies,” and wondered how she could get Umbitch punished for it.

She had only suffered through the detention because McGonagall’s warning about ‘picking battles’ with Umbridge ran through her mind, and Rose had doubts that her detention fell into the category of ‘Time to Go to War.’  It hurt, sure, and it was sadistic, sure, but didn’t Dumbledore and McGonagall have more important things to worry about than Rose getting her hand scratched up?

Nevertheless, she wrapped her hand in a handkerchief and headed to the hospital wing. Keeping quiet might be the thing to do, but Rose was not about to add another scar to her collection, let alone one put there by Dolores Umbridge.

“Madam Pomfrey?” she said.  “I’ve got a cut.”

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes.  “A cut?” she said.  “Merlin help you if it’s a paper cut, girl.”

“It’s not.”  Rose unwrapped her hand, and held it out.  The nurse did a very good impression of McGonagall’s thin lipped, stony face.

“I don’t know whether or not to hope that you’ve done this to yourself,” the nurse muttered.

“I haven’t!  Not of my own will, anyway,” said Rose.  “I had detention with Professor Umbridge.  She made me write lines with a blood quill.” 

Rose had found a blood quill among the detritus of the Black family home over the summer, and had made the mistake of trying to use it to pen a letter to Hermione.  Sirius had snapped it, and thrown it out.  Blood quills were more conventionally used to sign official documents, which Rose found ominous.  What would she ever need to sign that required her signature in blood?

If it was possible, Madam Pomfrey’s expression went even colder.  “Sit,” she snapped, “I’ll be right back.”

Madam Pomfrey returned with a camera.  “This is outrageous,” she said between gritted teeth.  She set Rose’s hand flat on the bed, and snapped several photos. 

She set Rose’s hand in a bowl full of dittany, which took away the sting nicely, and called Professor McGonagall through the Floo.  Rose took in their nearly identical expressions of barely repressed rage with glee. 

“I’m taking this to Albus,” snarled McGonagall.  “I want that hag thrown out on her bloody ear.”  She pointed at Rose, “You didn’t hear me say that, Miss Potter.”

“No, ma’am.”

The professor stormed out, snapping at Rose to stay put.

Dumbledore, however, did not have Umbridge ‘thrown out on her bloody ear’.  McGonagall was incensed, and ranted to Madam Pomfrey.  “—can’t have her torturing the students for detention!—I don’t know what he’s thinking!—I don’t care about the thrice damned Ministry—“

With nothing to be done about Umbridge at the moment, McGonagall warned Rose once more to keep her nose down in ‘that hag’s’ classes, and to warn the other Gryffindors.  Madam Pomfrey gave Rose a jar of healing balm, and wrapped up her hand in gauze.  Unfortunately, the cuts made by blood quills were harder to heal than your average cut as they were magical in nature, and it would take several days for Rose’s hand to heal.

“I want every student who has detention with Dolores Umbridge to come to me, immediately,” Madam Pomfrey said, directing her scolding at Rose.  “I won’t have her scarring up the students.  Do you understand me?”

Rose nodded.

McGongall rubbed her temples.  “I can’t believe this,” she muttered to herself.  “I’ve got to speak with the other Heads of House.  The students need to be warned.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose went up to the Owlery the next morning with a letter for Sirius and Remus to explain her detention.  She knew they would have gotten a letter from the school about it, and she wanted to tell them about Umbridge’s blood quill detention (and she hoped Sirius would lose his head and get the Black lawyers on it).

Rose sent Hedwig off, and ran into Cedric as she was leaving.  He smiled in greeting and his eyes strayed to her bandaged hand.  Rose shook her sleeve to cover it, feeling self-conscious about the wound.

“Can I see it?” he asked.

“See what?”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Professor Sprout warned the Hufflepuffs about Umbridge’s detentions this morning.  Everyone knows you had one with her last night.”

Rose looked away, but held out her hand.  He let out a hiss when he saw the healing cuts, and she snatched her hand away to re-wrap it.  “It’s fine,” she insisted.  “Much better than it was yesterday.”

“I can’t believe nothing is being done about her,” Cedric said.  “What she did to you can’t be legal.”

“I don’t think it is, but apparently Dumbledore has more important things to worry about,” Rose winced at the bitterness in her tone.  “Just have to learn to keep my mouth shut, and voila.  No more problems.”

“No more problems?” he repeated incredulously.  “She gave you this for telling the truth!  The Ministry is putting everyone in danger by not admitting that You Know Who is back!  I’d say that’s a problem.”

“Are you looking to get yourself a pretty scar, Cedric?” she snapped.  “Because that’s all the thanks you’ll get.  No one will believe you either.”

“But it’s true!”

“And the only people who know that are me, you, the Weasleys, and Hermione.  No one else!  I can’t even get Lavender and Parvati on my side, and they’ve been my friends since first year!  If I can’t even convince them—“  She threw up her hands. “—then I don’t know what to do anymore.  Obviously talking isn’t doing a bit of good.  No one will believe that he’s back until they see it with their own bloody eyes.”

“So you’re just giving up on them?” he took a step closer to her.

“What can I do?  Everyone thinks I’m on drugs!” she yelled.  “They won’t even believe _you_ , and you’re their bloody Golden Boy!”

“Well, you’ve got to try!”

“I have tried, and I’ve seen nothing for it but this—“ she put her bandaged hand in his face, “—and forgive me, but I don’t fancy getting yet another scar for the sake of the bloody backwards wizarding world.”

He blinked at her, and then held out his hands in a placating manner, “Look, Rose, I know that being the Girl Who Lived hasn’t done you any favors, but—“

“Oh, ignore me,” she moaned, and pressed her palms to her eyes.  “I’m just so… I’m so angry, and I’m probably saying things that I’ll regret saying later… I just… God, Cedric.  I’m just so bloody annoyed with everyone, and I’d like for them to go drown themselves in the lake.”

“No one who knows you believes those articles about you, Rose, or that you’re on fairy dust.”

She laughed bitterly.  “No, that wasn’t me, but you know what?”  She felt the burn of tears, and blinked them back.  “The worst of it is that if things had been different this summer, if Voldemort hadn’t come back… I _would_ have tried to sneak out to the clubs.  And if I could have gotten away with it, I would have been drinking and dancing every weekend.  I would have _loved_ to be the Girl Who Lived to Party, because that’s who I am.  I like to drink and dance and snog, and wear pretty clothes, and I worry too much about how I look, and I care more about my hair and makeup than I do about studying… and the whole fucking wizarding world _hates_ that about me.”

“Rose…”

“I’m a disappointment to everyone who was hoping for some Gryffindor warrior girl,” she went on.  “Except to the press, because my face sells so many goddamned newspapers.”

“You are not!” Cedric said, and shook her shoulders.  “And you are not just the Girl Who Lived to fucking Party!  You tied with me in the bloody Triwizard Tournament, didn’t you?”

“I cheated.”

“We all bloody cheated!  You are not just some vapid party girl, Rose Potter, and you know it.  You were in that graveyard with You Know Who and his Death Eaters, and you survived!”

“I _ran away!_ ” she screamed.  “I didn’t stick around to fight him!  I didn’t even _try!_ ”

“But you—“

Rose shoved his hands off her shoulders.  “Just leave it alone, Cedric.”  She stormed out, unsure of why she was so angry with Cedric as well, but needing to get away from him, and nearly bowled over Filch, who had come up the Owlery stairs, huffing and puffing.  “Get out of my way,” she snarled, and pushed past the caretaker.

:: :: :: ::

Rose shook off her bad mood long enough to spend the rest of the morning with Ginny and Ron.  Ron was the new Gryffindor Keeper, and Ginny still had hopes of being a Chaser when Angelina and Alicia left next year, so they practiced and Rose attempted a few Chaser moves with Ginny, though Rose was a crappy Chaser and Ginny was very good.  Ron blocked all of Rose’s goal attempts, and half of Ginny’s, so he was feeling pretty pleased with himself by the time real Quidditch practice began.

Practice, however, was a disaster.

Ron, who had been so good that morning, fell apart when the Slytherin Quidditch team arrived to watch their practice and began throwing out taunts and jeers.  Rose couldn’t help but notice that Draco Malfoy was leading the rest.

They laid into Angelina, Ron, and everyone else, but Rose was still surprised when Draco’s voice rang out, calling her name.

“How’s the rehab coming along, Potter?” he yelled. Rose turned on her broom, and just stared down at him.  His hair shone white in the sun, and his mouth was twisted in a mocking sneer.  “You going to have another fainting fit up there?” he jeered.  “I wouldn’t rely on the Weasel to catch you!”

Angelina flew past and shouted, “Oi!  Head in the game, Potter!  Ignore them!”

Rose faltered on her broom, the Slytherins laughing below, and barely heard Pansy’s shrill jab about Rose’s fairy dust addiction.  She caught the Snitch in a daze, to a chorus of, “ _Gryffindors are losers_ ,” and was relieved when Angelina called practice on account of Katie’s nosebleed becoming life threatening thanks to Fred and George.

Rose touched down on the pitch, and Ginny hurried over to her.  She had been watching the practice from the Gryffindor stands, and had heard everything.  “I can’t believe Malfoy,” Ginny snarled.  “What is wrong with him?”

Rose’s shock had turned swiftly to anger.  “Here,” she said, putting her broom and the Snitch in Ginny’s hands.  “I’ll be just a mo.”

She ignored Ginny’s, “What are you doing?” and marched over to the cluster of Slytherins, all of them ringed around Draco.

He smirked as she approached, and she wanted dearly to slap it off.  She had never minded that smirk until now.

“Nice practice,” he said, doing a slow clap as the others laughed.  “You Gryffs are going to be some pretty stiff competition this year.  Weasley with his _spectacular_ goal keeping, and you with your… _fits_.”

Rose walked right over Goyle who was sitting on the bench below Draco, put her hands on Draco’s shoulders and pushed.  He went down, back striking the next bench up, and Rose pinned him there, kneeling over him. 

His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak.  “My turn,” she spat, and pressed a hand over his mouth. “I can’t believe you.  I can’t believe I kept my mouth shut for _your_ sake.  Well, _fuck you_ , Draco Malfoy.  You want to be Voldemort’s newest minion, you go right ahead and join your dear old dad.  Have fun on your knees kissing that thing’s feet.  You’re _disgusting_.”

Goyle grabbed Rose around her waist and hauled her off of Draco.  The Slytherins had gone white at the mention of Voldemort, but Draco had gone pink.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco snarled, getting to his feet so he towered over Rose, still clutched to Goyle’s bulk.  “You _crazy_ _bitch_.”

Rose lashed out a hand, aiming for his face, but he reared back and Goyle yanked her out of range.  Draco sneered mockingly at her and left the stands, the other Slytherins following close behind.  Rose glared at their backs, and the raged seeped away, leaving her feeling not much at all.

“You can put me down now, Greg,” she said dully.

“Right,” he said, and set her on her feet.  “Bye, Rose.”  He lumbered off after Draco, and Rose shook her head at his back.  Apparently, Goyle hadn’t gotten the memo that Rose was no longer Draco’s friend.

“What the hell was that?”  Ginny said, coming up behind Rose.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, taking back her broom.

“You just lost your shit all over Draco Malfoy.  That is the opposite of fine.”

“I’m having a bad day.”

Ginny hooked her arm with Rose’s, and they started walking towards the castle.  “Let’s get some chocolate, and have some girl time.  You’ll feel better soon.”

“That’s going to take an awful lot of chocolate.”

:: :: :: ::

Sunday was no better.

Rose, Ginny, and Hermione studied late in the common room, and most everyone had gone to bed when an owl arrived for Ginny.

Percy sent Ginny a long winded letter, urging his sister to stop being Rose’s friend, lamenting that it was too late to save George from Rose’s crazy, slutty clutches (oh, wouldn’t Percy be happy to learn that his brother was safe?), but he hoped that it wasn’t too late for Ginny.  Percy didn’t want his sister to follow Rose down the path to self destruction.

Rose acted as though it didn’t bother her, and went back to studying for transfiguration.  Ginny, however, was livid, and tore the letter to shreds before pitching it into the common room fire.  “That absolute—“ she swore.  “I can’t believe he’s my brother.”  Ginny threw the last bit into the fire, and said, “Oh!”

From the sofa, Rose heard Sirius’s voice.  “Lo, Ginny,” he said.  “Can you fetch Rose for me?”

Rose threw her books and parchment aside, and knelt down on the hearth.  “Hi, Sirius!”

“I’m going to pull you out of that bloody school,” he snarled.

“You got my letter?”

“That some Ministry bitch is cutting up my goddaughter with an effing blood quill, yes.  Dumbledore all but told me to keep my nose out of it, and I damn near took his bloody nose off.”

“Did Remus stop you?”

“Only just,” he said darkly.  “Seriously though, I hear France is lovely, and you know some of those Beauxbatons kids now.  How about it?”

Rose smiled.  “I think I’d miss Ginny and Hermione.”

“They could visit,” he persisted.

“I’m tempted,” Rose said.  “I’m not going to lie, but… I think I’ll stick it out.  She’ll only be here for the year anyway.  I mean, there’s the curse, right?”

“Lets hope she goes the way of that Professor Quirrell, yeah?”

“You’re terrible…  Yes, lets.”

He laughed, and turned serious again.  “Are you all right?  How’s your hand?”

“It’s healed up, finally.  And I’m… well… things suck.  You’ll be glad to know that I tried to claw Draco Malfoy’s eyes out yesterday.”

He frowned, and said slowly, “Yeeess, but what did he do that made you want to claw his eyes out?”

“He’s chosen his side, and is being rather vocal about it.”

Sirius sighed, and looked helpless.  “I’m sorry, kiddo.  I know you… liked him.  I don’t know what to do to help you, Rosie.”

She shrugged like it didn’t matter, though it did.  “There’s nothing to be done.  Do you know what Dumbledore’s plan for Umbridge is?”

“No,” he said, expression going dark.  “I don’t think there is one.  I think he’s resolved to just put up with her for now.  The Ministry has his hands tied.”

“Why do they suddenly care so much anyway?” she demanded.  “They’ve never bothered with Hogwarts like this before.”

“Fudge has this nutty idea that Dumbledore is training you all up to act as his personal army, and that one day he’ll lead his little soldiers to war against the Ministry.”

Rose blinked, and blinked again, and laughed.  “You’re having me on.”

He smirked.  “Nope.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is our Minister.”

“Christ.  No wonder Umbridge isn’t allowing any practical work in DADA.”

“You’re not going to let that stop you, are you, Rosie?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  “You know what’s waiting for you out there, and I want you to be prepared, so you’d best get your friends together and practice your hexes.”

Rose smiled.  “That’s a good idea.”

When Sirius had said goodnight, and Rose turned to her friends, Hermione had her plotting face on.  “That _is_ a good idea,” she said, “but I don’t think it should just be the three of us.”

“What do you think we should do then?” asked Rose.

“Let me think about it for awhile,” Hermione said, and Rose and Ginny shrugged, well used to this.

:: :: :: ::


	10. Year Five, Part 3

  


Rose was able to keep her mouth shut in Umbridge’s presence only by the grace of a Muggle fashion magazine that she’d charmed to appear to be her defense textbook to anyone who looked.  So while Hermione went toe to toe with Umbridge, a warning hand wrapped around Rose’s wrist to keep her quiet, Rose read about fall fashion trends and debated the merits of combat boots and bomber jackets.

She even kept her cool when Umbridge inspected Professor Grubbly Plank’s Care of Magical Creatures lesson, though it was much harder when Umbridge asked leading questions about Hagrid’s worthiness as a teacher.  Hermione’s nails left marks on her wrist, and Rose’s tongue was sore from biting it, but she did it.

It became easier and easier to keep quiet, because Rose wasn’t talking to anyone other than Ginny and Hermione.  She was still avoiding Cedric after her spectacular breakdown in the Owlery, and she had no interest in speaking to her classmates who believed she was a slutty drug addict.

And then her world narrowed down to Hermione.

Ginny had been seduced away by a Ravenclaw called Michael Corner.  Ginny wasn’t entirely sold on Michael yet, but as she said, “At least I know he won’t chuck me for being a blood-traitor.”

“ _That’s_ why you and Blaise broke up?!” Rose cried.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!  You just kept saying that he was a bastard.”

“Well, he is.  He said that it wouldn’t be ‘wise’ for us to date any more.  He didn't actually say the words 'blood-traitor', but I can read between the lines.  This was, of course, after he’d read the article in the Prophet about what happened to you after the Tournament.  Bastard.”

“I didn’t know Blaise was… you know…”

“I don’t think he is,” Ginny said.  “But the rest of the boys in his dormitory have parents who are Death Eaters, so…  Peer pressure.”

“Bastards,” said Rose, and Ginny nodded.

“I’ll see you later,” said Ginny.  “I have a cute Ravenclaw to snog.”

Rose laughed and waved Ginny away.  “It looks like it’s just you and me, my bookish friend,” she said to Hermione.

“That’s good,” Hermione said absently, sketching down one last line on an essay.  “I have something to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been thinking about Sirius’s suggestion that we study Defense on our own.”

“And?”

“Well, we could always go look up hexes and jinxes in the library and practice them, but I was thinking that we needed something more.  Like a teacher.”

“Like who?” Rose asked.  “I suppose we could meet up with Remus on Hogsmeade weekends, but that wouldn’t be enough.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”  Hermione closed her books, avoiding Rose’s eye for a moment.  “I was thinking that… _you_ could be our teacher.”

“Me.”

“You.”

Rose laughed.  “Hermione, I don’t—“

“Rose, you’re _good_ at Defense.  You know what you’re doing, and most importantly, you know what it’s like to be in a situation where you have to use those spells.  We can practice all we like, but you can teach us what its like to use them in a real life or death situation.”

“Hermione—“

“A war is coming,” she insisted, and Rose went cold.  She’d been doing her best to avoid thinking of it in such terms, and here Hermione was, putting it so baldly that Rose couldn’t any longer.  “V-Voldemort is back, and we're all going to be in the middle of it.  You, and me, and Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys, and God knows who else.  Rose, we need to be prepared, and you can help us.”

“I don’t think I can.”  Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Rose said, “Hermione, I didn’t know what I was doing in the graveyard.  I never know what I’m doing.  I just… you just do what you can and hope to God you don’t die.  I don’t think I can teach that.”

“But you won the Tournament.  You spent all that time last year practicing dueling with the upper years.  And that’s not mentioning the Philosopher’s Stone in first year or the Chamber of Secrets in second.  You have experience—“

“But that’s still not—“

“You can teach us the spells.  You can train us to duel.  You can give us what we need to survive.  Hopefully next year we’ll have a decent Defense professor, but what if something happens before then?  We need to do all we can _now_.”

Rose fisted her hands in her lap and stared down at them.  She thought about what Cedric had said, and how angry he’d been that she was going to do nothing…  Well, maybe she couldn’t convince anybody that Voldemort was back, but she couldn’t stand the idea of people dying because they didn’t know what was coming, or how to defend themselves against it.

“All right,” she said.  “We’ll try it.  Who were you thinking of asking to join in?  The Gryffindors?”

Hermione smiled at her.  “I’ll deal with all of that.  You just think about lesson plans.”

Rose smiled back, and felt some of that ball of misery that had lodged in her stomach melt away.

:: :: :: ::

Hermione gave Rose nearly a month to work on ‘lesson plans’, which she most often did under the guise of taking notes in Umbridge’s class.

“I want to put the Patronus Charm in here,” Rose said to Hermione one night when they were cloistered in the library with a stack of defense texts and Rose’s new Defense notebook, “but I learned with a Boggart-Dementor… I don’t know how useful it will be to know the Charm, but not know what it’s like to have to cast it when you actually need it.  It’s not easy when you’ve got a real dementor in front of you…”

“Put it in anyway.  I want to learn how to do it.”

Rose smiled and wrote it down.  She tried to remember how Remus had taught her to do the Charm, and the tricks that had worked to get her motivated.

With help from Sirius, who had nicked Remus’s old lesson plans and smuggled them to Rose through the Floo, Rose quickly got a good idea about the spells which were most useful in the ‘Battle Against the Dark’, as she liked to call it in a deep ominous voice, because it made Hermione roll her eyes.

In the end, Rose’s lesson plans read like a quick and dirty Auror training program.  “The basics are all here,” Rose said to Hermione.  “A shield charm, a couple nasty hexes, Impedimentia, Stupefy, the Patronus, Expelliarmus, and some stealth spells.  All you need to block, take down, and get away.  If we get through these then we can add on, but this will do for now.”

Hermione flipped through Rose’s notebook, lingering over the Patronus page, and looked more and more excited as she went on.  “This is really good, Rose.  I’m impressed.”

“Yes, well, you were the one who taught me how to take notes.  I even color coordinated, see?”

Despite all the work Rose had put into her ‘Battle Against the Dark’ notebook, she didn’t expect that many people would be interested in the study group.  She was, after all, The Girl Who Lived to Not be Taken Seriously.

When she voiced this, Hermione said, “You might be surprised.”

And Rose was surprised when the next Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, and Hermione led her into the Hog’s Head which was packed with students.  Though not a single Slytherin, Rose noted.

“Hermione,” Rose hissed, “this place is filthy.”

The other girl was looking around the bar as well, nose wrinkled.  “I know.  But fewer Hogwarts students come here, so I hoped we would be a little… less conspicuous.”

“Little chance of that,” Rose muttered.  The whole place was crawling with Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and a scattering of Ravenclaws.  “They can’t all be here for the meeting, can they?”

Hermione ignored her question, and taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, dove into the throng.  Rose followed, aware of eyes on her as she followed Hermione, who stopped in front of Cedric Diggory.  Rose hung back as they talked, as she still hadn’t spoken to Cedric since the Owlery incident and had little desire to make a fool of herself again.

Cedric and Hermione seemed to come to a consensus, and he whistled.  The chattering of the Hogwarts students subsided, and Cedric said, “Everybody who’s here for the, uh, thing, gather round.”

Rose’s eyes went wide as everyone started circling their chairs around Cedric and Hermione.  Rose grabbed Hermione’s arm, “All of these people?” she hissed.  “I thought maybe a few Gryffindors, but this is too much!”

Hermione shrugged helplessly.  “I really didn’t think quite this many people would show…”

There had to be at least fifty people in the bar, and they were all staring at Rose expectantly.  True, she knew quite a few of them: George, Fred, Lee, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ginny and Michael, Luna Lovegood, Lavender and Parvati, the rest of the Gryffindor boys in her year… but she had not been expecting this, and so looked back at the lot of them, tongue tied for the first time in her life.

“Er,” said Hermione, sounding just as nervous as Rose felt.  “Well – er – hi.”

Attention on Hermione now, she launched into her usual tirade against Umbridge and the mockery she was making of DADA, “But,” Hermione said, “more importantly, I want to be trained well in Defense because… because… Lord Voldemort is back.”

There were the usual shrieks and squeals of terror, and Rose rolled her eyes.

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” asked Zacharias Smith in an aggressive voice.  Rose was reminded abruptly of why she’d never liked him.  “I think we’ve got a right to know exactly what makes _her_ say You-Know-Who’s back.”

Rose scowled.

“I say it too, Zach,” Cedric calmly reminded him.

“All you said you saw was a man in a cloak holding something,” Zach said scathingly.  “ _She’s_ the one who’s claiming that was Him.”

“I have a name, Zacharias,” Rose spat.  “And yes, I do say that he’s back.  He is.  But I’m not going to waste my afternoon trying to convince you of it.  Either you believe me or you don’t, I’m not bothered.”

They stared each other down.  “All Dumbledore said was that—“

“If you want to hear the story again, I suggest you look up the Daily Prophet article on it.  Rita Skeeter got something right for once.  That will tell you all you need to know, but I’m not going to re-hash everything.  If that’s what you all are here for, then you might as well clear out now.”

No one moved, so Hermione went on.  “Right, so, as I was saying… if you want to learn some defense then we need to work out how we’re going to do it, how often we’re going to meet, and where we’re going to—“

And then it was a free-for-all discussion about the many and varied miraculous feats Rose had accomplished.  Blushing, and angry that she was blushing, she snapped, “Look, I had help with all of that.  It wasn’t just me—“

“But what about—“

“And the—“

“Yes!  All right, I had to do some of it on my own, would you all just… quit?”  Rose held her hands to her cheeks, glaring at Ginny, who grinned and laughed at her embarrassment.

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias.

Ginny hexed Zach silent.  “Go on, Rose.”

“Thank you, Ginny.”

“Yes, well,” said Hermione, “are we agreed we want to take lessons from Rose?”  There was a general murmur of agreement, and Hermione unrolled a scroll.  “All right, then.  Everyone signs.”

After a brief debate on whether they ought to, Rose snatched the parchment away and signed her name.  “Just sign it, you bloody cowards.”

“Rose!”

“Well, they’ve got to sign.  If they don’t they’ll be hexed with that artistic array of boils, and if they _talk_ ,” she looked threateningly around, “then they’ll be hexed as well.  You’ve been warned.”

There was a mad scramble to sign the parchment then, and Rose sent Hermione a smug look.  The other girl rolled her eyes, but happily pocketed the scroll when it was filled with signatures.

“What kind of hex is on that?” Cedric asked Rose in a low voice.

She smiled thinly, and brushed a line in the air over his cheekbones.  “Hope you never have to find out, Cedric.”

He winced and rubbed a finger over his cheek.

“All right,” Rose said, gathering everyone’s attention once more.  “We’ll meet once a week – no, Angelina, it won’t interfere with Quidditch practice – and we’ll let you all know when and where… as soon as we find a where…”  Rose hooked her arm in Hermione’s, very eager to be gone already.  “See you.”

Hermione, bemused, followed her out of the pub, and they walked quickly to Honeydukes, where Rose bought a bar of chocolate.

“That was…” she sighed, and took a bite off the bar.

“Great!” Hermione finished.  “Can you believe the turnout?”

“No,” Rose scowled, “I can’t.  Where are we going to meet?  There’s too many people, Hermione!”

She waved Rose’s concerns away.  “It’s going to fine.  We’ll figure something out.”

“And what’s the deal with all those seventh years wanting to learn from _me?_   What can I teach _them?_ ”

“Think about the kind of education we’ve had in DADA, and see if you really need to ask that question.”

Rose sighed.  “All right, so our DADA professors have been a bit… shoddy… Not including Remus, of course.  I guess they do need the help.”

“It’s going to be great,” Hermione insisted.  “Lets go back to the castle and figure out where we’re going to have these meetings.”

:: :: :: ::

Somehow, Umbridge had found out about Rose’s study group.

“Someone talked,” Rose said darkly to Hermione, as they looked at the latest decree that disbanded all student organizations.

“They can’t have,” Hermione said, shaking her head.  “I checked the parchment.  It would have said if the hex had been activated.”

“Then someone else in the Hog’s Head heard us.”

Hermione nodded.

“I think you should start with the stealth spells instead of the defensive ones.  We’re going to have to be extra careful…”

That day was especially interesting, because Neville went completely mental before Potions, and punched Draco right in the mouth.

Draco was bragging about his father again, and Rose tuned him out.  They’d not even glanced at each other since Rose had all but attacked him on the Quidditch pitch.  But her attention was drawn when Draco said her name.  “As for Potter… My father says it’s a matter of time before the Ministry has her carted off to St. Mungo’s.  Apparently they’ve got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic.”

Draco made a face at Rose, and mimed a swoon.  Rose, unimpressed, made a rude gesture with her hand.

“It’s not funny!” Neville yelled, charging at the blond.  He threw a fist at Draco’s face, connecting solidly with Draco’s cheek and the corner of his mouth.

Draco’s head snapped back from the force of the blow, and he stumbled into Crabbe.  He looked, for a moment, completely shocked.  Everyone else was shocked as well, and stared dumbly at Neville, who shook out his hand, chest heaving.  Neville was hardly the type to attack others, least of all Draco, because he was scared of him.  Draco recovered with a snarl, and went at Neville.  Rose threw up a shield charm between them, and Draco bounced off it.

“Drop it, Rose!” Draco yelled.

She blinked at the use of her name.  “…No.”

“Drop it!” Neville shouted, furious eyes fixed on Draco.

The dungeon door opened.  Snape appeared in the doorway, his dark eyes took in the scene with a slight widening of his eyes.  “Fighting, Longbottom?” he said, his cold voice bringing Neville back to earth.

“He punched me!” Draco said.

“Detention then, Longbottom.  Mr. Malfoy, go to the hospital wing.”

Neville said nothing, but snatched up his bag and stalked off into the Potions classroom.

Potions that day was being inspected by Umbridge, and Rose’s only consolation was that Snape looked twice as irritated with Umbridge as Rose felt.  Rose hoped that Snape would slip a little something into the woman’s tea in revenge.  Thoughts of the terrible things Snape could do to the High Inquisitor kept Rose quiet and smug all through the day.

:: :: :: ::

Though Hermione disapproved of ‘slave labor’, and was forever trying to incite the house elves into revolution, after Rose’s scar did it’s Lord Voldemort specific mood ring magic during Quidditch practice, she dragged Hermione and Ginny down to the kitchens for a sugar binge.

“What’s a ‘mood ring’?” Ginny asked, when Rose had told them what she’d felt.

“It’s a Muggle thing.  Never mind.”

“You should tell someone,” Hermione said.  “Dumbledore should know.”

“I’ll tell Sirius,” Rose said, selecting an éclair from the tray of pastries the house elves had made up.  “He’ll let the Order know if it turns out to be important.  Likely, though, Voldemort is just angry because I’m still breathing, which isn’t exactly news.”

“You should be careful,” Hermione said.  “I think Umbridge is keeping a closer watch on you than usual.”

“Then I’ll write a letter and _you_ can send it,” Rose said.  “That’s one problem solved.  We still need to find a place to have our study group.”

“I’ve got nothing,” said Ginny, and smiled down at a house elf who had just refilled her teacup.

“The Chamber of Secrets would be perfect, but the Slytherins know how to say ‘open’ in Parseltongue now, and I don’t trust them…” said Rose.

“We need somewhere large enough, and hidden… oh, but where?” said Hermione.

“Emmy knows a place!” said the teapot bearing house elf.

The girls looked at the elf, surprised.  Since Hermione had started badgering the elves about freedom, they tended to keep their distance.  “Where?” asked Rose.

“We calls it the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirement,” said Emmy.  “Only the elves ever uses it, but it is giving you anything you need!  I can show you!”

Rose grinned down at the elf, and wished Kreacher was half as helpful.

:: :: :: ::

The Room of Requirement was, as Ginny said, “Effing brilliant.”

The girls spent a happy hour testing the limits of what the magic of the Room was capable of, and were not disappointed.  Hermione ‘required’ a stack of rare books, and Ginny ‘required’ a lounge chair in front of a sunny window, and Rose was happy to lie on a chaise near Ginny with a bubble wand and a bottle of bubble potion.  Ginny aimed sparks at the bubbles, and Hermione read.

“I love this place,” Ginny sighed.

“It’s neat,” Rose agreed.

The rest of the ‘study group’ thought it was neat too.  The girls had decided to keep the means to access the Room of Requirement a secret, but happily explained how the room worked.  Rose, Ginny and Hermione had asked the Room of Requirement for a meeting place for a defense club, and the room had provided Dark magic detectors, Defense books, large silk cushions on the floor (Rose assumed for practicing stunning spells), a wide open area to practice dueling, and a raised platform, which was where the girls were sitting as the other students entered the room.

“What is this place?” George asked.  “It’s not on the map…”

Rose smiled at him, and hoped it didn’t look as wobbly as she felt.  She was glad that George was making an effort at being friendly, but at the same time it tore at something in her chest.  He grinned weakly back, eyes going soft…

Ginny coughed, and Rose blinked.  “It’s, uh, called the Room of Requirement.  One of the house elves told us about it.”  Ginny saved her from having to make any more painful small talk, and explained how the room worked to George and Fred.

Hermione had been checking off names from the list, and nodded to Rose when everyone was present.  The other students were all sitting on the silk cushions, and the whole room had an air of _rebellion_.  Rose took a deep breath, and stood.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, and her voice rang pleasantly through the room.  _Ooh_ , she thought, _I like this_.  The others giggled, waved, or said, ‘ _Hello, Rose!_ ’  “Now, now,” she said, adopting a sickly sweet tone.  “I should like you to please reply, ‘Hello, Professor Potter.’”

There was a chorus of groans and laughter, and Ginny balled up paper to throw at her.  “All right, fine,” Rose mock pouted, tossing the paper back at Ginny.  “Anyway, this is the place we’ve found for practices, and I’m glad you found it okay… I’ve been thinking about what we should start with, and I decided—” Rose noticed a hand raised.  “Hermione?”

“I think we ought to elect a leader.”

“I thought I was leader.”

“You are,” she hissed quietly.

“Well then, what do we need to elect one for?”

“Oh, forget it,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.  “I think we ought to choose a name.  It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity.”

“Oooh,” said Ginny.  “Can we be the Anti-Umbitch Group?”

“Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Militia?” suggested Fred.

“I was thinking,” said Hermione, frowning at them, “more of a name that didn’t tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”

“Artistic boils,” Rose mused, thinking.  “What about Study Group?  That’s nice and innocuous.”

Ginny threw the ball of paper at her again.  “Terrible.  You’ve no imagination.”

“The Defense Association?” said Cho Chang.  “We could call it the D.A. for short.”

“Yeah, that works,” said Ginny.  “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army, since that’s the Ministry’s worst fear.”

Everyone laughed at that, and quickly agreed to the name.  Hermione boldly penned ‘DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY’ across the top of the parchment with all their signatures on it, and pinned it to the wall.

“All right then,” said Rose.  She fetched up her ‘Battle Against the Dark’ notebook, and hugged it to her chest.  “Business done, I thought we should split up into pairs, and practice the Disarming Charm.  I know it’s pretty basic, but—“

“Oh, please,” said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes.  “I don’t think _Expelliarmus_ is—“

“Zach!” Rose snapped.  “Did someone put a wand to your head and force you to come here?  Because _I_ will bloody put a wand to your head if you don’t quit bitching.  If you feel this is beneath you, then you can leave.”

Zacharias didn’t leave, nor did anyone else.

“Good.  Okay, hop to everybody.”

Everyone got up and split into pairs, and Rose noticed that Cedric had claimed Zacharias for a partner.  Having orders followed so easily was… kind of a rush.  Rose found that she was smirking.  Ginny nudged Rose with her hip.  “This is totally going to your head, isn’t it?” she grinned.

Rose snickered.  “Completely.  I’m mad with power.  Knock me off my high horse, won’t you?”

“Come on then.”  Ginny hopped off the platform.  “I’m gonna steal your wand away, Potter.”

“You’re gonna _try_ , Weasley.”

:: :: :: ::

The DA was, there was no other word for it, fun.  It was easier than ever for Rose to keep her mouth shut around Umbridge, even at her most poisonous, because Rose knew that she was doing what the Ministry most feared and carrying on right under Umbridge’s ugly toad nose.

The warm glow of rebellion grew and grew with each accomplishment of the members of the DA: like when her fanboy, Colin Creevey, perfected the Impediment Jinx in just three meetings, or Parvati, whose Reductor Curse was now so strong that she could turn large objects to dust, or when Neville managed to _stupefy_ Cedric right into the wall…  And it wasn’t just Rose who was feeling the effects.  Hermione was nearly bouncing around to classes, smile permanently affixed to her face.

“I’m going to get an O on my DADA O.W.L.,” she crowed happily.

“You’re going to get an O in Charms too,” said Rose, fiddling with the charmed galleons that Hermione had created for the DA to communicate their meeting times.  “These are brilliant.”

As with all things lately, the glow of happiness was abruptly extinguished.  Rose should have been expecting it, really.

It was the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and Ron was a sad bundle of nerves.  He fell apart at the first sign of opposition, and Slytherin was all too happy to provide it.

Draco had been at work once more, creating shiny little badges for his housemates and even composing a song.  Rose, while incredibly annoyed, was also impressed at Draco’s ability to rally all the Slytherins together.  She could only imagine what the Slytherin common room had been like while he forced them all to learn the lyrics to, ‘Weasley is Our King’.

They all sang:

              _Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That’s why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King._

And it wasn’t a bad song, either… it was catchy.

Rose passed Draco in the air, and he was singing at the top of his lungs, “Weasley was born in a bin…”  He grinned maliciously at Rose as she passed.  “Like my song, Potter?”

The sad thing was, she sort of did.  It was terrible and cruel, but it made her remember the ‘Support Rose Potter’ buttons, and her heart ached with wanting Draco back on her side.  She _missed_ the obnoxious, vicious prat.

This did not mean that she was going to let him have the Snitch, however.  She needed to catch it for Ron’s sake, because they would lose the game otherwise and Ron would try to drown himself in the showers.

The Snitch showed itself and Rose streaked after it, a green-gold blur in the corner of her vision told her Draco was coming after her.  They were neck in neck, Draco slammed against her side, and Rose bounced herself up on her broom with the force of the blow, searching for that extra inch—

Her hand closed around the Snitch, and Draco’s hand closed around hers a moment after.  She elbowed him away, and cut towards the ground.

 _WHAM!_   A Bludger hit Rose in the small of her back, throwing her from her broom.  She landed flat on her back on the frozen pitch, breath knocked from her.  She blinked up at the sky, gasping.

Angelina lit on the ground beside her.  “Are you all right?” she asked frantically.

Rose moaned, and took Angelina’s hand to pull her to her feet.  “Ow.”

“It was Crabbe!” Angelina snarled.  “He whacked the Bludger at you when he saw you’d gotten the Snitch.  But we won!  Rose, we won!”  She hugged Rose enthusiastically.

“Ow, Angie,” said Rose, wincing.

“Sorry, sorry!” Angelina released her and bounced away to hug Alicia and Katie.  The rest of the team were now landing, yelling and punching the air, all except for Ron, who Rose saw was slowly making his way to the changing rooms alone.  It seemed that Ron would be trying to drown himself in the showers after all.

“Saved Weasley’s arse, haven’t you?”  Rose turned to Draco.  He was white faced and furious, his fingers tightly clenched around his broomstick.  “I’ve never seen a worse Keeper—“

“Oh, will you leave off with Ron!” she said.  “It’s me you’re mad at!”

Draco’s expression closed down.  “I wanted to write a few more verses,” he went on, as though she hadn't spoken.  “But I couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, you see.”

“You leave off their mother,” Rose hissed, taking a few steps towards them.

A shadow of a smirk ghosted across his face.  “We couldn’t fit in useless loser either, for his father, you know.”

Rose clenched her jaw.  “You want to talk about _fathers_ , Draco?” Rose spat.  “What room have you to talk when yours is just a _cowering_ sycophant.”

Draco’s nostrils flared, and they were nearly nose-to-nose now.  His voice was quiet and malicious, as he said, “At least I _have_ a father.”

It was as though he'd slapped her, and Draco knew it.  He looked viciously pleased by her flinch.  The Snitch was digging painfully into the flesh of Rose’s tightly clenched hand.

“What have you got, Potter?" he continued in that quiet, cruel voice.  "Vague, misty memories of your parents? A half-mad godfather, in love with a werewolf.”

“He’s not mad!”

“Oh, but yes to the rest?”

Rose’s yell had drawn the attention of the others, and George was suddenly pushing her out of the way.  “What did you say to her?” he snarled in Draco’s face.

Draco held up his hands, cool and innocent, “We were just talking, Weasley.  What’s it to you anyway?  I heard you chucked her for going around behind your back.”  George went for Draco’s throat, and Rose threw up a shield wall between them.  Draco threw Rose a raised eyebrow.  “What’s with this anyway?” he asked her, gesturing at the shield wall.  “Is it to protect him or me?”

Rose glared.

George pounded his fists against the wall, and Fred came up behind him to pull him back.  “Leave the little ferret alone, Forge,” he muttered.

Draco shrugged, unconcerned.  “I almost had her, you know, Weasley?  You got there just a few minutes before I did…” He glanced at Rose, his lip curled.  “If I had, it would have been me she was spreading her legs for.”

George went at the wall with a roar, Draco smirking and untouchable behind it, completely unconcerned with his anger; Fred wasn’t even holding him back any longer.  Draco raised an eyebrow at Rose.  “I could have kept her interested too, Weasley.  She wouldn’t have been playing around behind _my_ back.”

Rose, cold and hot and so very still, like the whole world had stopped, made a tiny motion with her wand, and the shield charm fell.

George tackled Draco to the ground.  Angelina, Alicia and Katie grabbed Fred and held him back.  Rose watched with a detached sort of interest as George’s fists pummeled Draco.  Draco was yelling, and George was swearing, and the girls were yelling at him to stop, and Rose just watched.  Draco fought back, landing a solid hit on George’s nose.

She barely heard as Madam Hooch shouted out an ‘ _Impedimentia’_ , knocking George away from Draco.  “What are you doing?” she shrieked.  “I’ve never seen behavior like it – all of you to your Head of House’s office!  Now!  That means _you_ , Miss Potter – I’ve never seen the like—“

Rose went numbly, George furious at her side.

:: :: :: ::


	11. Year Five, Part 4

  


Rose and the twins made it to McGonagall’s office long before the professor herself arrived. Rose sat beside Fred in the chairs in front of McGonagall’s desk. George paced, fists and jaw clenched tight. Rose looked him over, assessing the damage Draco had done. His eye was red and starting to swell— he was going to have an impressive black eye in the morning, but other than that he seemed fine.

“That little shit,” George said, muscle ticking in his jaw.

Rose crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Did they really have to re-hash everything? She wanted to crawl into her bed and forget every word. Forget who said them. She looked out the window. It looked over the Quidditch pitch, and everyone was streaming back to the castle in lines like ants.

“At least you got a hit in,” Fred said. “The girls held me back.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Rose begged.

She felt their eyes on her. George stopped in front of her. She had no choice but to make eye contact.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” she said. And it was true. It wasn’t the words that had hurt so badly. It was who had said them.

She shouldn’t even be surprised. He wasn’t her Draco anymore - he was Voldemort’s newest Malfoy. He had made that clear in every possible way, and that it had taken something extreme and cruel like this to get that through to her stupid, _stupid_ heart, well, that was her fault. She angrily swiped at her eyes, and George started muttering under his breath about how Draco was going to suffer.

Fred yanked a tissue from the box on McGonagall’s desk, and waved it at Rose until she took it.

McGonagall arrived with Umbridge at her heels, and Rose didn’t know how it was possible, but her life managed to get _worse_.

:: :: :: ::

“Banned?” said Ginny.  “A lifetime Quidditch ban?  She can’t.”

“She has,” assured Rose.  “You’ll try out for Seeker, won’t you?  I know it’s not your favorite, but—“

“Oh, Rose, I can’t take your place—“

“Ginny, if you don’t we’ll have no shot at the Cup, not with Fred and George gone too.  You’ve got to.  I’d lend you my broom, but Umbitch has it locked up in her office.”

Ginny sighed.  “I hate to get on the team this way.”

“But you’ll do it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Hagrid returned that evening, and Rose went down to visit him the next day.  He was full of stories about his dealings with the giants, but Rose was more concerned with the injuries he was sporting.  There wasn’t much out there that could hurt Hagrid, but it looked like he’d gone ten rounds with the giants and lost.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rose asked again.  “Shouldn’t you see Madam Pomfrey?  What on earth were you fighting with?”

“I wasn’t fightin with nuthin, Rosie,” he said, a large slab of frozen dragon meat pressed to his black eye.  “Don’t you worry about me none.”

“Fine,” said Rose, making it clear that she didn’t think it was _fine_.  She scratched Fang behind his ears.  “I’ll tell you about Umbridge then.”

“She came ter visit me las’ night,” he said.  “Said she’s inspectin’ the teachers.”

“She is!  And you need to be extra careful, Hagrid.  She’ll have it out for you.  You wouldn’t have liked to hear the things she said about Remus—“

“I can ‘magine,” he said scowling.

“Right, so nothing too dangerous, okay?” Rose pleaded.  “She’s already on Trelawney’s case – she’ll be sacked any day – and I don’t want that to happen to you.  So nothing above a triple X Ministry classification!”

“That leaves me with nuthin,” Hagrid muttered.

“Hagrid—“

“I’ve got some good lessons planned for yeh,” he assured her.  “And nuthin that’ll eat yeh—“ he grinned, “—don’t you worry, Rose.”

And Hagrid was good to his word.  Their next lesson was positively tame by Hagrid’s standards, but, of course, Umbridge wasn’t giving him an inch.

The thestrals, which only Neville and Theo Nott could see, were apparently gnawing on the carcass of a dead cow.  It was, Rose thought, pretty disgusting, but not very frightening.  Parvati was near to having a fit though; apparently thestrals were dark omens, and one was sidling up beside her.

Then Umbridge arrived… and Rose hexed her.

She addressed Hagrid like he was foreign and slow, in a loud, slow voice.  She pretended that she could not understand what Hagrid was saying.  She made comments aloud, ‘ _Has… to… resort… to… crude… sign… language_ …” and, “ _Shows… signs… of… pleasure… at… idea… of… violence_.”

Umbridge went on and on, and Hagrid grew more and more flustered, until Rose couldn’t take seeing the flush on his face any longer.  Rose twitched her wand in her sleeve, and cast a hex Fred and George had taught her last year.

The next time Umbridge opened her mouth, “Eas-play ontinue-cay eaching-tay as-ay sual-uay—“

The students began to snicker, and Hagrid cocked his head to one side.  “What was tha’?” he asked.

Umbridge was unaware of the spell, which was the brilliance of it, and smiled sweetly, and said in a louder voice, “I-may oing-gay oo-tay alk-way,” she mimed walking and Draco and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter that they calmed when she looked their way, “mong-ay he-tay udents-say—“

“Oh, my God,” crowed Seamus, completely collapsing into full-blown laughter.  Dean and Ron broke as well, trying to hold up their friend between them.

Umbridge blinked, and turned her attention to Seamus.  “Hat-way s-isay o-say musing-ay, oung-yay an-may?”

The rest of the Gryffindors broke.  Hermione’s lips were pinched tightly together, eyes watering, obviously trying desperately not to laugh.  Rose allowed herself a small smile.

“Pro-professor,” gasped Pansy Parkinson.  “You-you’re speaking in pig-latin!”  She collapsed against Draco, giggles overtaking her.

“Hat-way?”  She drew herself up, puffed out like a blowfish, “Oo-hay id-day is-thay?  Onfess-cay!”

But the laughter was too much for even Umbridge.  She turned a brilliant red, and stomped away from the class, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest.

“Who did that?” Ron demanded when she had gone.  “That was brilliant!”

Rose smiled sweetly at Hagrid, and he shook his head in exasperation, though he was smiling.

Umbridge never found out that Rose was the one responsible for hexing her, though she was convinced a Gryffindor was responsible, because she assigned them a horrible, long essay in their next DADA class.

“I know it was you,” Hermione said to Rose after class.  “That hex had Fred and George written all over it…”

“Did it?” Rose asked, feigning confusion.

“Yes!” Hermione said, bumping Rose with her very full book bag.  “Well, whoever _did_ do it ought to be told that they’re brilliant.  Umbridge deserved it.”

“That she did,” said Rose.  “No one messes with my friends.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose was very glad that Christmas was fast approaching, because she was eager to go home (or to Grimmauld Place, whichever) for break.  She was thoroughly sick of the castle, and Umbridge, and worrying about Hagrid, who was definitely going to get sacked, no matter what Rose did about it.

All she had left to distract her was a mountain of homework (which was unpleasant), and the last meeting of the DA before hols.

The Room of Requirement had decked out their practice room with tinsel, garlands of holly, and sprigs of mistletoe.

Ginny came bouncing into the room shortly after Rose arrived.  The Gryffindor Quidditch team had held tryouts that day for the vacant positions.  “I’m Seeker!” she cried.

Rose cheered, and bounced around with Ginny.  “I’m so glad!  You’re going to be amazing, Gin.”

“I know!” she laughed.

The meeting was soon underway.  Rose had decided not to start anything new, since it would be several weeks before they could have another meeting, and so they reviewed the spells Rose had already drilled them on.

An hour burned away quickly, and Rose was pleased to see the progress that everyone had made.  Neville had gotten very good with Stunning spells, and smirked in a decidedly Slytherin way when he knocked Padma Patil out.

“When we get back from the holidays we can start working on some of the big stuff,” Rose said to them.  “Maybe the Patronus.”

Everyone was pleased with this, and left in twos and threes, wishing Rose a happy Christmas as they went.  Rose perched on the raised platform, wanting to review her notes on the Patronus Charm before it was safe for her to leave as well.

She looked up when it had gone quiet, and noticed someone else was still in the room with her.  Cedric was picking up the cushions that had been laid out to practice Stunning spells, and zooming them to stack against the wall.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.  “The Room kind of… cleans up after itself.”

“I don’t mind,” he said.

“Okay.”  She bent back over her notebook.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he asked.

Rose blinked, and raised her head to look at him.  He had his head cocked to one side, wand tapping against a thigh.  He didn’t look angry, just curious.  Rose bit her lip and shut her notebook, setting it aside carefully while she thought of what to say.

“Because… I was embarrassed about completely losing my head with you that day in the Owlery, and…” she shrugged, and shut her eyes.  “I don’t know.  It was stupid, and then I’d left it too long to apologize, so I just…”

She chanced a look at him, and he smiled slightly.  “You never had to apologize for that.”

“Yes, I did.  I screamed at you, and you didn’t deserve it.  I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he said, properly smiling now.

Rose nodded.  “All right then.”

“So,” he said, clapping his hands together.  “The Patronus Charm.  Think you’d be up to giving me a little head start?”

Rose grinned.  “I don’t know if that’s fair,” she teased.

“I won’t tell.  Go on.  Teach me.”

Rose hopped off the platform.  “Okay, the incantation is—“  Cedric had the incantation and wand movement down in moments.  “The tough part is to pick the right memory.  You have to think of a happy memory, and hold it in your mind, and then cast.”

Cedric tried it, shouting, “Expecto Patronum!”  He produced a small amount of silvery vapor.  “Was that good?” he asked.

“Uh, sort of?  No,” Rose admitted when he raised an eyebrow at her.  “What were you thinking of?”

“Winning the Tournament.”

“ _Tying_ for the Tournament, Cedric.  You _tied_ ,” she reminded him.  He laughed.  “Maybe something a little more… I don’t know, pure?”

“What do you think of?”

Rose looked away.  “The first time it worked I was thinking of my parents, and then of when Sirius was freed… and I think…” Rose waved her wand, and cried, “ _Expecto_ _Patronum!_ ”  A great silvery stag, Prongs, erupted from the end of her wand.  He canted around them in a circle, and then stopped in front of Rose.  She tried to pet his iridescent muzzle, and he faded away.  Rose smiled.  “Yep, that one works too.”

“What did you just think of?”

“Oh,” she blushed.  “Just… oh, fine.  When George and I broke up, I was worried Ginny would take his side, or hate me or something, but… she didn’t.”

“That’s nice,” he said, nodding.

“How about you try it again?”

Cedric cast the spell again, producing much more silvery vapor this time.

“Great!” said Rose.  “That was much better!  You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Cedric smiled and put his wand away.  “Don’t you want to know what I was thinking of?”

Rose’s eyes flicked to his in surprise.  Oh, she knew that tone.  “Um… sure.”

He grinned crookedly, almost smug, one hand going to her waist.  “I thought of… what happened before we took the Cup.”  He tugged, and Rose took a step closer, her hands falling to rest on his chest.  “Yes,” he said, voice husky.  “That.”

“The—the spider?” she asked stupidly.

“No,” he chuckled.  “Definitely _not_ the spider.”

Rose licked her lips, and his eyes followed the movement.  “Are you going to steal this one too?” she asked breathlessly.

“Am I going to have to?”

“Um…”

The answer was ‘definitely not’, but she didn’t voice it.  Rose tilted her face up, and Cedric took that as the assent that it was.  The kiss was gentle, coaxing, and oh, so different from the last one they’d shared.  The last was a desperate theft of her mouth, but this one… oh, this one went on for _ages_ …

:: :: :: ::

Rose entered Gryffindor Tower with a very silly grin on her face.  Ginny and Hermione noticed immediately, and dragged her up the stairs to the fifth year girls’ dormitory.

“Cedric stayed after, didn’t he?” said Ginny.  Rose nodded.  “Oh, my God.  Did Cedric Diggory kiss you?”  Rose nodded.  “Oh, my God!” she squealed.

“Wait,” said Hermione.  “Cedric Diggory?  I thought you weren’t talking to him.”

“I wasn’t _not_ talking to him,” said Rose.  “I just wasn’t trying to talk to him.  I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ginny said impatiently.  “But whatever.  He kissed you?!”

“He kissed me!”

Ginny gave a little scream.  “I can’t believe it!  Cedric Diggory!”

Rose nodded, biting her lip so her smile would be contained.  It threatened to overtake her face.

“Tell me _everything_ ,” Ginny demanded.

Rose did.

:: :: :: ::

Happy thoughts of kissing Cedric were far from Rose’s mind just scant hours later.  She had dreamed once more of the long dark corridor with the dark door at the end, but this time there was a twist.  She was a snake, and had attacked Arthur Weasley.

Hermione woke her from her dream with a violent shake, and Rose sat up with a gasp.  “Rose!  What were you dreaming of?  You were screaming—“

“I’ve got to—“ she gasped, “I have to—Hermione!”  Rose took deep breaths, mastering the roiling feeling in her gut, and stumbled out of bed, sheets twisted around her ankles.  “I need the Floo – now!”

Lavender and Parvati were standing by her bed as well, white and trembling.  Hermione helped Rose to her feet, and steadied her as they went down to the common room.  This, Rose reflected in the corner of her mind that wasn’t wild with fear, was why she loved Hermione.  No questions.  Just action.

Rose wobbled down to her knees in front of the fire, and Hermione put the little bag of Floo powder that Remus had given her last year into her hand.  Rose took out a pinch with shaking fingers, and called, “Marauder’s Royal Crescent!” and stuck her head into the flames.

She called for Sirius and for Remus, but the house was still and silent.  “Shit,” she said, pulling her head out.

The connection broke, and Hermione, with worried eyes, tossed in the second pinch for her.  Rose nodded her thanks, and called once more, “Number twelve Grimmauld Place!”

To her relief, the kitchen of Grimmauld Place showed recent signs of life.  The lights were on, but the room was empty.

“Hello!” she called.  “Can anybody hear me?!  Hello!”

A scuttling sound came, and Kreacher’s face had never been so welcome.  “It’s Master’s brat,” he said curiously.  “Where has she been, Kreacher wonders?”

“Kreacher!” she cried, “I’ll give you… oh, I’ll give you the photo of precious Mistress Bellatrix if you fetch me someone.  Anyone!  Anyone who’s in the house!”

Kreacher’s face brightened.  “If Master’s brat wasn’t a filthy half-blood, Kreacher might like her,” he muttered, and swiftly popped away.

“Oh, thank God,” Rose muttered.

“Rosie!”  It was Sirius.  Good, she wouldn’t have to explain…  “What is it?  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.  Arthur is not!  You’ve got to get him help.  He’s been bitten by a snake, and he’s going to die if you don’t do something!”

He blinked.  “You dreamed this?  One of your real ones?”

“Yes!”

“All right.  I’ll take care of it.  Get out of the Floo.  Don’t go back to bed.”

Rose snorted.  “No chance of that.”  She pulled her head out of the fireplace, and found Hermione looking at her, wide eyed.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

Rose explained the dream she had, and Hermione grew paler and paler.  “That’s awful,” she said.  “Do you think we should wake up Ginny and the boys?”

Rose didn’t know what was best: to wake them up and let them worry until news came, or to let them sleep and worry later?  “I don’t know.  Let’s wait for Sirius to Floo back.”

They waited for what seemed like hours, but was probably only twenty minutes.  The fire glowed green, and Sirius’s face appeared.  “You’re coming home right now,” he said to Rose.  “You and the Weasley kids.  Did you wake them yet?”

“No.”

“Do that then.  McGonagall is coming to fetch you from the common room.  Don’t go anywhere.  Don’t tell the others what happened yet.  Sorry, Hermione, you’ve got to stay there.”

“It’s all right,” she said.  “I’ll get Ginny.  You get the boys, Rose.”

“Is Arthur all right?” asked Rose.

“He’s at St. Mungo’s.  We don’t know anything yet… I’ll explain when you get here.”

Once they had all been Portkeyed away to Grimmauld Place, the Weasley children had shaken off their sleep, and were now reaching full blown panic.  The boys were yelling, demanding to be taken to their father immediately, and Ginny was pale and silent.  Rose hugged her friend, and hardly listened to Sirius trying to talk the twins down.

“He’ll be fine,” Ginny said, almost to herself.

“Of course he will,” said Rose.

It was by far the worst dream Rose had ever had.  It would have been bad enough seeing that snake attack Arthur, but it was so much worse because Rose had _been_ the snake in the dream.  It was _her_ fangs that had sank into Arthur’s skin, and his blood had filled _her_ mouth.  She shut her eyes and hugged Ginny tighter, and vowed to never, ever tell her friend.

Molly eventually sent word that Arthur was going to be all right, and by that time dawn was breaking.  Sirius went out and brought them back breakfast, though no one was hungry enough to eat it.

Rose picked at a pastry, deep in thought.  The funny thing was that she had been dreaming of that same corridor and that same locked door for months now.  She had thought before that it was just a recurring dream, brought on by her frustration at not being able to find a way out of the social nightmare her life had become since the summer, but now that it was a real place she didn’t know what to think.

The dreams took on new meaning now that she believed they weren’t her dreams at all, but Voldemort’s.  He was the one who had been dying to get at whatever lay beyond the locked door.  What on earth could he want so badly?  What could be so important to him?  And why didn’t he just go and get it if he wanted it so much?  From what Rose knew of Tom Riddle he wasn’t the type of man to deny himself something he wanted.

The only thing Rose could figure was that the location of the ‘thing’ (whatever it may be) was in a place that Voldemort couldn’t get to.  But where could Voldemort not go that Arthur Weasley could easily access?

It didn’t make any sense.

And no one would say where Arthur had been, so the questions burned inside her.

:: :: :: ::

The old saying that eavesdroppers never hear anything good of themselves held true while Rose was at St. Mungo’s with the Weasleys to visit Arthur.

“The girl’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake…” said Mad-Eye Moody from behind the closed door. “Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who is possessing her—“

Rose pulled the Extendable Ear out of her own, and blinked at the Weasleys.  “No,” she said.  “That’s—no.”

“You’re right!” said Ginny.  “You’re not.  Have you been losing time?  No.  Do you wake up in odd places and not remember how you got there?  No.  You’re not being possessed.”

“Right,” said Rose, feeling better.  “Thanks.”

“Welcome, you crazy thing.”

She accepted Ginny’s exasperated hug.  “Then what is it?” asked Rose.  “It’s not… normal… to be sharing dreams, and seeing him do things, and know what he’s feeling… Oh, God.  You don’t think it works the other way around, too?”

The girls shared horrified looks.

“Might drive him mad,” George said lightly.  “I’d hate to see what’s going on inside any girl’s head.  Let alone yours,” he grinned, teasing.

“Shut up,” she laughed, but already felt better.

Crisis averted for the moment, they spent a few more hours with Mr. Weasley before going back to Grimmauld Place.  Rose went straight to Sirius when they arrived, and hugged him tightly.

“What’s that for?” he chuckled.

“Are you doing this guard duty thing too?” she asked.  He stiffened, and sighed.  “You don’t have to answer,” she said.  “It could have been _you_ there last night.  If it had been then it might have taken ages to get anyone to believe me, and then…”

“Oh, Rosie.”  He kissed the top of her head.  “I’m being careful, kiddo.  I’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“Better not,” she sniffed.

:: :: :: ::

Despite Arthur being in the hospital, Christmas at Grimmauld Place wasn’t all that bad.  Rose enjoyed celebrating with the Weasleys, and Hermione even cut her holiday with her parents short to come to Headquarters.

“I was just so worried,” she said, when she and Rose were back at the house at Royal Crescent.  There weren’t enough beds at Grimmauld Place to accommodate everyone, so Hermione had come back with Rose.

“I was too,” said Rose.  “It was awful, Hermione.”  Rose explained the dream again, and told Hermione the truth – that she had been the snake in the dream – and her suspicions that the dreams of the corridor and the locked door were not her own.  They wondered together what Voldemort could want, and where such a thing would be located, but Hermione didn’t know any more than Rose did.

“It could be the Ministry,” Hermione said later.  “You-Know—oh, fine—Voldemort has been keeping quiet, and the Ministry is doing him a favor by not saying that he’s back.  If he walked into the Ministry to get whatever this thing is then the Ministry would have to admit that he’s back.”

“Maybe,” Rose said darkly.  “But with people like Umbridge and Fudge running things, they might just claim that it was someone in a costume.”

Hermione laughed humorlessly.  “You’re probably right.”

Rose dreamed of the corridor and locked door again, and woke up with a sense of frustration that she unfortunately shared with Voldemort.  She wanted to know what was behind that door too.

:: :: :: ::

On the last day of the holidays, Professor Snape came to see Rose.

“Come again?” she said to Mrs. Weasley.

“Professor Snape, dear.  In the kitchen.”

Rose exchanged bewildered looks with the Weasleys and Hermione.  “Uh, all right.”

She followed Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen, and unfortunately Sirius and Snape were the only two people there.  Rose nearly groaned aloud.  Put Sirius in a room with Snape, and things tended to be said, and arguments began, and then people got hexed.  Determined to keep the peace, Rose pasted on a smile.  “Hello, Professor,” she said cheerfully.

“Miss Potter.  Sit down. 

Rose sat.

Sirius lolled back in his chair, leaning back on two legs, and said in a loud voice.  “You know, I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape.  It’s my house, you see.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  Sirius would only claim this wretched house as his own when it suited him.  He was such a… stupid, combative _boy_ when Snape was around.

Snape glared at Sirius, and turned the look onto Rose.  “I was supposed to see you alone, Miss Potter, but Black—“

“Her godfather,” Sirius supplied in a voice louder than ever.

They were moments away from wands being drawn.

“Yes, thank you, Sirius,” Rose said tightly.  “What was it you wanted, Professor?”

“The Headmaster has sent me to tell you that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.”

“Oh.”  She wondered if she ought to know what he was talking about.  “What’s Occlumency?”

Snape sighed heavily.  “Occlumency is the magical defense of the mind against external penetration.  An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one.”

Rose blinked.  “Will it help me to keep Vol—“ she remembered abruptly that Snape got prickly when she used Voldemort’s proper name, “—You-Know-Who out of my head?”

“It will, if you show any aptitude for it at all.”

Sirius’s chair fell to the floor with a bang, as he jumped to his feet.  “Look here you—“

“Who’s going to be teaching me?” Rose asked loudly, speaking over him.

“I am,” said Snape.

“All right, then.  Thank you, sir.  When should I meet you?” she rushed out.  She had but moments before Sirius completely snapped.

“Six o’clock Monday evenings in my office.  If anyone asks, you are taking Remedial Potions.  Don’t be late.”

_Remedial Potions_ , Rose mouthed in disbelief and not a little injured pride.  She wasn’t that bad at Potions.  It wasn’t her best class, but she wasn’t a complete idiot.  She wasn’t _Neville_.

Snape got up to leave, but Sirius just _had_ to get in the last word.  “Wait a moment,” he said.  Snape turned, looking ready to bite.  “If I hear you’ve been using these lessons to give Rose a hard time, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Sirius, he never gives me a hard time,” Rose hissed.  And she didn’t want that to change.  She didn’t want to be treated like Neville was, for godssake.

“How touching,” Snape sneered at Sirius.  “Perhaps you ought to listen to your goddaughter, Black.  I’ve have indeed been rather… lax with her.”

“Yeah, and I think we all know why,” Sirius said nastily.  Snape went paler than normal, and his nostrils flared.

“What the _hell_ does that mean?” Rose demanded, addressing Sirius.

“Stay out of it, Rose,” he said.

“No!  What are you talking about?  You know, I think you’ve taken this ‘keep the boys away from Rose’ thing a bit too far.  He’s my _teacher!_ ”

“Rose!” Sirius looked at her, scandalized.

“Well, he is!”

“I wasn’t—“ he sputtered, “—I wasn’t saying _that!_ ”

“It sure sounded like it!”

“Well, I wasn’t!  I would never—“ he gagged.  “I would never!”

“Well, good!” she snapped, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

Snape looked, of all things, amused by their argument.  She caught the edge of his smirk as he turned in a swirl of black robes, and left through the Floo without another word.

Rose told the Weasleys and Hermione about the Occlumency lessons.  They were horrified on her behalf.

“Extra lessons with Snape,” said Ron.  “I’d rather have the nightmares.”

Rose shrugged.  No one had ever noticed that Snape mostly left her alone in Potions class, and Rose had never drawn attention to it – scared that Snape would suddenly turn on her if he realized that he hadn’t been terrifying her into a pile of mush like everyone else.

“I don’t think it will be that bad,” said Rose.  “I guess it’s almost lucky I’m not on the Quidditch team anymore.  I wouldn’t have the time with these extra lessons and the DA on top of OWL’s…”

Sirius found Rose that evening, and dragged her out of the library and into the empty parlor.  “Here,” he said, handing her a small mirror.

“Thanks?”

He rolled his eyes.  “It’s a two way mirror,” he said, exasperated.  He twitched an identical mirror in front of her nose.  “I’ve got the other one.  Now you can talk to me, and not have to use the Floo.  We think it’s being monitored, so it’s not especially safe.”

“Cool,” said Rose, looking at the gift with a new appreciation.  “How does it work?”

“You say my name – say it—“

“Sirius—“

“And, like magic—“ Sirius’s face appeared in Rose’s mirror, “Hello.”

“Hello,” she grinned.  “This is so cool!”

“Your dad and I used them when we had separate detentions… and now you can let me know if Snape is giving you a hard time,” he said pointedly.

“He’s not going to give me a hard time,” said Rose, nearly whining.  “He usually just ignores me in class, which is a miracle considering how much he hates you… You think he’d take that out on me…”

Sirius screwed his face up, and looked like he really didn’t want to say what he was planning on saying.  “You’re a lot like your mum, Rose, and… ugh, Snape was… friends with your mum.”

Rose blinked.  “Really?”

“Only up to fifth year!” he said quickly, like her mother had committed a terrible sin by being friends with Snape, and Sirius didn’t want Rose to feel badly towards Lily.  “Then he fucked everything up, and they didn’t talk anymore.”

“What did Snape do?”

“Well, see,” Sirius rubbed the back of his neck in a rare show of sheepishness, “your dad was, uh, dispensing some _well deserved_ justice on Snivellus’s person, and your mum came up and told him to leave Snape alone. She called James a few names, you know - you’ve heard what they were like back then. And Snape didn’t appreciate the help, so he called Lily some names… It was pretty ugly.”

“Oh.”  That was sort of sad… and really familiar…  Rose felt a lump rise in her throat.  “So Mum and Snape never talked again? Not ever?”

“I think he tried to make some kind of crappy apology, but your mum was too smart to fall for it.”

“You don’t think he meant it? You don’t think he was sorry?”

“No, I think he was _very_ sorry, but not for the right reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“Snivellus had a crush on Lily even before Hogwarts. They grew up together. But after that fight, Lily finally started to give James the time of day, and you can bet once your dad finally got his foot in the door, he wasn’t going anywhere.” Rose smiled. Tales of James’s many failed attempts to woo Lily were her favorites.

“So Snape lost her to Dad after that?”

“Like Snape ever had a shot,” Sirius scoffed. “Lily had way better taste than that.”

“Sirius?” asked Rose, biting her lip. “Do you think Mum missed being friends with Snape?  Even though he… fucked up?”

Sirius looked at her as though she was saying crazy things.  “Uh… I don’t know?  I don’t know how she could… he was such a bastard…” he muttered.

There were times when Rose really missed her mother. Like right this moment, she was dying to know how her mother had dealt with the destruction of her friendship with Snape. Did she ever forgive him? Would she have, had she lived? How long did Lily recommend Rose make Draco _grovel_ before she forgave him? Did Lily ever miss Snape, even when she knew she shouldn’t?

“Do you think Mum would have forgiven him? Eventually?”

Sirius looked very alarmed at the direction the conversation had taken.  “I—I—probably,” he admitted.  “Your mum was a good sort, Rose.”

Rose nodded, fingers tracing anxious patterns on the mirror’s edge.

“Ah, hell,” said Sirius.  “This isn’t about Snape at all, is it?”

She shook her head.

“Ah, hell.”  He pulled her into a hug.  “It’s that fucking Malfoy kid, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his chest.

Sirius sighed deeply.  “I’d say you’re better off without him—which you are—but I really hate seeing you miserable… You’ll grow out of this bad-boy phase… I hope.  Merlin, please.”

She smiled, and then wiped it away, adopting a haughty air.  “I’ll have you know that I’m not in a ‘bad-boy phase.’  I’m sort of dating Cedric Diggory now, and he’s about as far from bad-boy as you can get.”

He frowned.  “I thought I told you no.  Yes, I remember it very clearly!  I said, ‘No Cedric Diggory!’”  He was trying to hide a smile, so Rose knew he didn’t _completely_ mean it.  He was probably just glad that Draco Malfoy wasn’t in her future.

“I didn’t make any promises,” she said airily.

“I’m going to have to put the fear of God into that kid, aren’t I?”

“He won’t be scared away,” she said tartly.

They bickered all the way down to the kitchen.

:: :: :: ::


	12. Year Five, Part 5

  


Cedric Diggory was waiting for her answer.  He had come all the way up to Gryffindor Tower to find her, waited outside the Fat Lady until a Gryffindor appeared to give Rose the message that he wanted to talk to her, and then proceeded to do what Cedric did, which was yank Rose around and kiss her senseless.

“So, will you?” he asked.

“Huh?” Rose asked intelligently, eyes fixed on his mouth, and wondering why he’d stopped.

“Hogsmeade Weekend.  Valentine’s Day,” he said with a laugh, and a grin Rose wanted to lick.

“Oh, right.  Hogsmeade.  Sure.  How about you kiss me some more?”

He chuckled, and did so.  But not for quite long enough.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, forehead bent to hers.  “I’ve got a prefect’s meeting to oversee.”

Rose smiled, feeling content and fuzzy inside.  “Go on then, Head Boy.”

He kissed her one last time and left.  Rose watched him go, because she loved the view.  When he turned the corner, she pushed herself off the wall with a sigh, and mused on what one wore on a Valentine’s Day date with Cedric Diggory, seventh year, Head Boy, and wielder of kisses so powerful they melted Rose’s spine.

:: :: :: ::

“ _Legillimens!_ ”

It was like being hit in the brain with a lorry, nothing like the lovely swimming nothingness of the Imperius Curse.  Snape was such a liar—

She was five, and Aunt Petunia was scolding her for tripping during a ballet recital…  She was eight, and had gotten a box of cosmetics for Christmas, and pasted on a smile, because what she’d really wanted were roller skates…  She was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and was telling it to keep her away from ‘that tosser, Draco Malfoy’…  Ginny was lying still as death in the Chamber of Secrets, and wouldn’t wake even as Rose shook her…  Sirius was putting a wand to her head and pulling her out of the common room, and she didn’t put up a fight…  George’s blue eyes were deadened, and then wide with hurt, as she told him to break up with her…

Rose let out a yell, there were sharp pains in her knees, and suddenly the images stopped.

“Did you mean to produce a stinging hex?” Professor Snape asked, examining a welt on his wrist.  He was taller than he ought to be… Rose realized she had fallen to the floor.

“No,” she muttered, using Snape’s desk to pull herself to her feet.  “That was weird.  Did you see everything I saw?”

“Only flashes of it.  That wasn’t such a poor first attempt.  You did manage to stop me eventually.  Repel me with your brain this time, and you will not have to resort to your wand.”

Rose took a breath and nodded.  She still didn’t quite get what she was meant to be doing, but if the spell felt like a battering ram against her thoughts...

“ _Legillimens!_ ”

Rose imagined Snape’s spell being cleaved in two, splitting off and missing her mind entirely.  She thought it had worked for a moment, but the imagery crumpled like tissue paper—

Cedric was on the ground, screaming and thrashing, under Viktor’s wand…  The basilisk lay dead, and Tom Riddle was screaming…  Draco’s face was cruel, and his mouth was forming the words ‘spreading her legs’…

Rose was on her hands and knees, breathing harsh, and Christ, her head was pounding.  It felt like that lorry was battering her head in time with her pulse.

“Better,” said Snape.  “But instead of trying to deflect the spell, I want you to empty your mind of all thoughts and emotions.”

Rose hung her head, and breathed for a moment.  She crawled to her feet.  She stood there for a moment with her eyes closed.  She imagined that she was moments away from going on stage for the talent portion of Little Miss England.  She shut her eyes and breathed deep… this was when she would push lingering panic away to deal with it later, and would affix a bright smile, and straighten her spine, and…

She opened her eyes and nodded at Snape.

“ _Legillimens!_ ”

She felt it this time, like a car crash in slow motion, and thought maybe, maybe she could just _shove_ it—

She was seven, and Dudley pulled the head off one of her Barbie dolls… Sirius was doing a victory dance, while Rose threw down the Nintendo controller in a huff…  Cedric, dirty and disheveled, yanked her close and stole a kiss…

She was back on the floor.  “Oh, God,” she said, and clutched her head between her hands.

“Up,” said Snape, and grabbed her elbow and hauled her to her feet.  “You did not do as I instructed.”  He looked… angry.

“I—I tried,” she protested.  “I don’t know how to stop you.”

“Do not attempt to stop me,” he snapped.  “I want you to clear your mind, and give me nothing!”

Rose tried not to take his tone personally, she really did, but when Rose was in pain she got snippy.  “All right!  Fine!”  He glared.  “Sir!” she added.

“Clear.  Your.  Mind.”

Rose once again shut her eyes and imagined that she was moments away from performing, and when she was ready, opened her eyes and nodded.

“ _Legillimens!_ ”

There was nothing for a moment.  The pain was there again, but no flashes of memories, just Snape’s office, and Professor Snape himself standing there with his wand pointed at her—

She was falling through the air, and so, so cold, and she could hear her mother begging for Rose to be spared—

She didn’t fall to the floor this time, and though the pain was great – much worse now – she looked at Snape, hoping that she had gotten it right.  Snape was white, and he looked—

“Professor, are you all right?” she asked.

He turned his back on her.  “I expect you back here at the same time on Wednesday.  You are to clear your mind every night before sleep.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Go, Miss Potter.”

Rose went.  Her headache grew worse on the walk back, and when she entered Gryffindor Tower she nearly turned right around.  George and Fred were demonstrating Headless Hats to a shrieking, laughing crowd.  Rose shut her eyes, praying for a reprieve, but none came.

She stumbled over to the sofa where Ginny was sitting with her Charms book open, though she was watching her brothers and smirking.  Hermione sat nearby with a pile of homework.  Rose dropped onto the couch next to Ginny, shoved her textbook off her lap, and replaced it with her head.

“Hello, then,” said Ginny, amused.

“My head hurts,” Rose whined, and grabbed Ginny’s hands and put them at her temples.  “Make it better.”

Ginny snorted, but rubbed small circles on Rose’s temples.  “Was your lesson bad?” she asked.  Hermione looked up from her homework, interested.

“I think Snape made it worse rather than better,” Rose said.  “It feels like a Bludger is attacking my brain.  And not a school Bludger.  One of those iron ones that they use in professional Quidditch.”

Ginny winced.

“Maybe it has to get worse before it gets better,” said Hermione.  “I have a headache draught in my trunk, if you’d like it.”

“Oh, I’d love it,” said Rose, and swung herself off the couch.  She followed Ginny and Hermione up the girls’ staircase, and just as she was entering her dorm room a pain so severe, and so unlike what she had been feeling before, made her sway into the doorjamb.  It felt like someone was trying to pry her skull apart from the inside.

Maniacal laughter was ringing in her ears… She was so happy!  She hadn’t been this happy in years!  Jubilant, triumphant… something _wonderful_ had happened—

“Rose!”

Someone slapped her across the face.  The laughter cut off suddenly.  The happiness drained away…

She blinked up at the ceiling of her dormitory, and Ginny’s face appeared in her line of vision.  “What the hell, Rose!”

“Huh?”  Her hand went to her forehead, the center of the pain.  “He’s happy.  He’s really happy.”

“Tom?” asked Ginny.

“Something’s happened.  Something he’s been hoping for…  Oh, Christ, I’m going to throw up…”

“Your defenses will be low at the moment,” Hermione said, as the girls helped her to her feet, “since you’ve had Professor Snape attacking your mind.”

Rose moaned.  “Oh, who cares about that?  What can have happened to make Voldemort so happy?”

The girls exchanged looks.  “Nothing good,” Ginny said darkly.

:: :: :: ::

“Ten,” said Ginny.  “Ten really bad-ass motherfuckers.”

Despite it all, Rose snorted.

Hermione glared at them both, and took back the Daily Prophet.  “Fudge is blaming the breakout on Peter Pettigrew.  He still won’t admit Voldemort is back.  But then, what can he say?  ‘Sorry, everyone!  Dumbledore warned me this would happen, and now Voldemort’s worst supporters have broken out of Azkaban.’  He’s spent a good six months telling everyone that Rose and Dumbledore are lying.”

“It’s a world of bad,” Rose agreed.  “He’s dug himself a nice hole, and he’ll just keep digging until it’s too late for everybody…”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Ginny.

It was a day for bad news it seemed, because they soon learned that Hagrid had been put on probation.  Though she was tempted, Rose couldn’t very well hex Umbridge every Care of Magical Creatures lesson, so she took revenge on the toad by re-doubling her efforts with the DA.

All the members of the DA were training harder than ever after hearing the news of the ten escaped Death Eaters, but none harder than Neville.  He was spurned on by the escape of the woman who’d tortured his parents into insanity, and was second only to Hermione in learning the Shield Charm.  Rose wished she could take Neville’s success and apply it to her Occlumency lessons.

Despite being able to hold Snape off for those few moments in her first lesson, Rose wasn’t able to withstand the effects of Legillimency for any longer than that.  Her mind would wander, and then Snape would break in, and the images would start, and then Snape would start yelling.

It was tiresome.

Coupled with the frustration of Occlumency lessons themselves, Rose felt that her mental defenses against Voldemort were growing weaker rather than stronger.  Before, her scar had prickled only occasionally, and those flashes of Voldemort’s surroundings and feelings were rare.  Nowadays, however, Rose’s scar hurt constantly, and she almost always knew what Voldemort was feeling.  It was annoying to suddenly feel cheerful in a DADA lesson, or bristling with anger during dinner.  What was more, the dreams she was having of the long corridor and the dark door (the whole purpose, Rose thought, behind studying Occlumency in the first place) grew more frequent, until she was traveling down that corridor every night, and looking longingly at the locked door.

Snape put her inability to learn Occlumency down to a lack of practice, which was entirely untrue.  Rose had tried everything to learn how to clear her mind – even going so far as to give meditation a shot – but even then she was unable to keep the blankness going for long.  Her mind was never silent.

If she wasn’t thinking about what Voldemort was up to, or wondering about what lay beyond the locked door, Rose was trying to figure out a way to steal a few minutes with Cedric.  With both of their busy schedules it was nearly impossible to find an evening to spend together.  Cedric had Head Boy duties, Quidditch practice, the DA, and NEWTs to study for, and Rose had Occlumency lessons two nights a week, the DA, and OWLs to study for.  There was rarely an evening in both of their schedules that was free for snogging.

:: :: :: ::

Rose dressed carefully for her date with Cedric – keeping in mind that no matter the holiday, she was still going to be walking around the little town, and that it was chilly.  So the pretty red silk dress was out.  She wore a blue wool dress, dark leggings, boots that laced up nearly to her knees, and a matching blue coat.

Cedric approved, eyes lingering on her knees.  “You look very pretty,” he said, taking her arm.

Rose smiled.  “I look like a Ravenclaw.”

“A pretty Ravenclaw,” he said, grinning.

They walked down the road to Hogsmeade arm in arm, Rose leaning contentedly into Cedric’s warm side.  “You’re not going to take me to Madam Puddifoot’s, are you?”

He snorted a laugh.  “Not unless you beg.  A lot.  That place is terrible.”

“A man after my own heart,” she teased.

“I _am_ after your heart,” he said, and kissed her.  It was a sappy thing to say, but Rose found herself grinning and blushing anyway.  _Best date **ever**_ , she thought.

Truthfully, their date in Hogsmeade turned out to be just like every other trip to Hogsmeade she’d ever made.  They went to Honeydukes, Zonko’s, and all the other stores Rose liked to hit when she was in Hogsmeade, and they whiled away the afternoon in The Three Broomsticks.  The difference was Cedric, and how often he would kiss her, or whisper little comments in her ear, or put his arm around her waist and worry the fabric of her dress between his fingers.

Or when he pulled her into the alley between Gladrags and Scrivenshaft’s and snogged her against the wall for many, many long minutes.

“We don’t get to do this often enough,” he mumbled, nibbling on her neck.

“No,” she agreed, fingers clenched around his biceps – which were _nice_.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and hers went around his neck, and they kissed and kissed – and things were getting quite out of hand…  And the skies opened up, and they were suddenly in the middle of a downpour.

Cedric started to laugh mournfully into her neck.  “Even nature is against us,” he said, voice muffled.

Rose conjured up an umbrella, and held it between them so they were both covered.  “Lets go back to the castle,” she said in a low voice.  “You can sneak me into the Hufflepuff common room.”

Cedric grinned, and lowered his voice to match hers.  “Do you want to see what the Head Boy’s room looks like?”

She bit her lip.  “Maybe…”

His eyes were understanding.  He put his arm around her shoulders, and they left Hogsmeade and the suddenly rotten weather behind.

Cedric did sneak her into the Hufflepuff common room, but he didn’t ask her again if she wanted to check out his dorm room.  He might be a kiss thief, but he wasn’t the type to push a girl into things she wasn’t ready for.  The benefits of dating a Hufflepuff. 

They shared one large chair in a corner of the common room, Rose’s legs thrown over his lap with his fingers tracing patterns on her knees, and kissed and talked until it was time for dinner.  She wished they could do this every day, but it was impossible.

:: :: :: ::

 Gryffindor lost their next match against Hufflepuff due to Ron’s awful goal keeping, though Ginny snuck in under Cedric to grab the Snitch.

Rose was torn between being ecstatic for Ginny, and wanting to comfort Cedric in his moment of loss, but the decision was taken out of her hands by Fred and George who dragged her along to the Gryffindor mourning party.

“Let pretty-boy Diggory celebrate with his fellows,” said George, with not an ounce of bitterness in his voice.  “Now is a time for house commiseration.”

Rose was glad that they were getting to a point where they could be friends again, because she had missed spending time with the twins since she and George had broken up, so went along with them.  The twins unearthed a few bottles of butterbeer, and the three of them holed up in a corner of the common room to commiserate together over their life-time Quidditch ban.

“I miss Quidditch,” moaned Fred.

“It was the only thing worth sticking around for,” said George.

“You’ve got NEWTs coming up,” Rose reminded them.

“We’re not fussed about them,” said George.

“The Snackboxes are ready to roll out,” said Fred.  “We’ve got the boil problem covered now…”

“Are you really going to leave?” Rose asked, frowning.

They shrugged.  “We’ve nearly got the premises for the joke shop sorted,” said Fred.

“We’ve only got papers left to sign,” said George.  “And we’ve got plenty of inventory made up… I reckon we’ll be ready to open before September… if we cut out of here when the shop’s ready for us to move in.”

“How long will that be?” asked Rose.

The twins looked at each other, and then back to Rose.  “April,” they said in unison.

“April!  That’s only a month away!  Shouldn’t you take advantage of having a whole school full of customers right here?”

They grinned.  “Oh, we plan to.”

Rose leaned in, sensing mischief afoot.  “What have you two got planned?”

“We’re just waiting for the opportune moment,” said George. 

“We plan to go out with a bang,” they said.

“But we’re not telling,” said Fred.

“It’ll be a surprise, Rosie Posey,” said George.  “Wouldn’t ruin it for you.”

Rose scowled, unhappy at the idea of them leaving at all.  “But what will your mother say?”

“We can handle a Howler or two,” said Fred.

“And the constant nagging?” said Rose.  “You’re going to break your poor mother’s heart.”

“We can’t do any worse than Percy’s already done,” said George.

“What will make you forgive us, Rosie?” said Fred, lilting his voice in a tempting manner.

Rose considered this.  “If you take Umbridge with you.”

“We’ll do our best,” they said, grinning identical slightly manic grins.

It took Rose ages to fall asleep that night – the thought of Hogwarts without George and Fred keeping her awake, and when she finally did drift off she dreamed once again of the long corridor and the dark door.

She noticed with a leap of excitement that the door was ajar.  A thin strip of blueish light shone down the edge, and she reached out her hand to push it open further, heart pounding with curiosity and—woke up.

:: :: :: ::

Snape’s Occlumency lessons were not working.

“You have not been practicing!” he yelled, after he had broken into her mind after just moments of Rose being able to keep it cleared.  His hand came down to pound against his desk.

“I have been!” she yelled back.

“Then why, pray tell, do I find it so easy to get to your memories?” he sneered.  “You’ve not improved at all since our first meeting, which you would have had you been practicing as I instructed!”

“I am!  I just can’t stop thinking!  I’ve rather a lot on my mind!”

“And the Dark Lord will use that against you.  He will be able to pluck your fears out of you mind and use them against you!  You have shockingly little defense against it, Miss Potter!”

“I can’t help it!”

“Try,” he growled.  “Again!”

“It’s just making it worse!” she said, holding him off.  Her head was killing her already, and he’d only cast the Legillimency spell once.  “It wasn’t nearly so bad until I started having these lessons, but now I know what he’s feeling all the time, and my scar _hurts_ , and I’m sharing dreams with him!”

“You were told to clear your mind before sleep!”

“I have!” she protested.  “It doesn’t make a difference!  The dreams break through anyhow!”

Rose really had been trying, but that door was now a regular feature in her dreams, now always sitting slightly ajar… so tempting… so curious… and she burned with wanting to know what Voldemort was after.

But the night before this disastrous lesson, she’d dreamed of something else.

She had been Voldemort in the dream, had looked through his eyes, and felt as though she were sitting in his head.  He had been talking to a Death Eater called Rookwood, who had said that Lucius’s Imperious Curse on a Ministry of Magic employee had failed to retrieve the object (what object? Rose wanted to know).  They had been talking about what lay beyond the door, Rose knew.

She’d woken up in pain, and turned this new information over and over in her mind, unable to fall back asleep, because somewhere far away Lord Voldemort was punishing a Death Eater called Avery.

“You must try harder, Miss Potter,” said Snape.  He had calmed himself, and now his voice was very serious.  “The headmaster does not want you to see these things.  It is imperative that you be able to close your mind against the Dark Lord.  Especially as you know so many of the Order’s secrets.”

Rose bit her lip.  “It works both ways, doesn’t it?  He can see into my mind as easily as I can see into his?”

“We do not know,” he said.  “But there is the chance that this is the case, and the Dark Lord hasn’t discovered it yet.  He does know that you are able to see into his mind, and he can use that against you.”

“I really am trying, Professor,” she said, feeling miserable.

He tapped his fingers on his desk, appearing to be deep in thought.  “I will attempt to find an alternate method of teaching you.  This is the one that worked for me, but perhaps your mind works differently… however, I know of no other way to teach this skill…”

Rose was torn between feeling grateful at the prospect of a different method, and worry that anything else he might find would be more painful than the current one.  “Should I try again?” she asked.

“There doesn’t seem to be much point,” he said.  “We will resume at the regular time next week.  Do try to clear your mind before sleep – I do not care that it doesn’t seem to be working.  It may be worse if you do not.”

“Yes, Professor.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, but as Rose reached the door they both heard a woman’s scream coming from somewhere outside the room.

Rose threw the door open, and hurried out.  The commotion seemed to be coming from the entrance hall, and Rose ran up to see, Snape just behind her.  She pushed through a knot of older Slytherins, and saw Professor Trelawney was the source of the distressed wails.

She was standing hunched, a bottle of sherry clutched in one hand, tears rolling down her face, magnified by her thick glasses.  The beaded and belled shawls she wore trembled and jangled with her sobs.

Rose scanned the hall for the source of Professor Trelawney’s tears, already knowing what was happening, and found Umbridge standing at the bottom of the main staircase smiling that awful, sweet girlish smile.

Rose’s hand twitched in her sleeve, her wand dropping into her palm, and she would have cast the pig-latin spell again, but Snape’s hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed in warning.

How did he _do_ that, she wondered.

It turned out that she didn’t need to worry, because Dumbledore had the situation well in hand.

For once.

:: :: :: ::

April had arrived, and with it the completed paperwork for the twins’ lease on a shop front in Diagon Alley.

They showed the papers to Rose, each brimming with excitement.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though they looked dubious at her less than enthusiastic tone.  “I am!  I’m just going to miss you both.”

“Aw, Rosie,” Fred said.  “Would a lifetime discount on Wheezes appease you?”

“No,” she said petulantly.  They had even forgone throwing themselves a birthday party this year, saying that they were too busy working on Wheezes to plan it properly.

“You’re invited to the Grand Opening party,” George said, trying to wheedle a smile out of her.

Rose gave him a small smile, and they beamed back at her.  “It had better be one hell of a party,” she said.

The twins had still not found their ‘opportune moment’, so Rose got to keep them around for a while longer.

:: :: :: ::

The DA was thrilled to start learning the Patronus Charm, and Rose was glad to finally get to the difficult charm as well.  It made everyone happy to keep thinking on their fondest memories, which they all needed in these trying times.

Cedric was the first to produce a corporeal Patronus – due to his extra tutoring – and as his shining silver lioness prowled in a circle around them, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “I’m thinking of your knees.”

Rose blushed, feeling happily flustered, and had to go away to help Hermione.  Cedric laughed as she all but ran away.

With a little prodding, Hermione was able to produce a silver otter.  “They’re nice, aren’t they?” she said, watching her Patronus frolic around her ankles.

“I like them,” said Rose.

Neville and Lavender were having trouble with the charm, so Rose went over to help them out.

“I can’t do it!” Lavender said angrily, her wand letting out puffs of silver vapor.

“Pick a different memory,” suggested Rose.  “I don’t think that one is working for you.”

Neville was trying so hard his face was shining with sweat.  “Nev, it’s not supposed to make you sweaty.  I think you might be trying too hard.”

He sighed unhappily, and tried again, this time without screwing up his face in concentration.  He smiled when he produced more vapor than last time.  “I think I’m getting it!”

Rose wandered over to Cho, who was watching her swan Patronus soar around the room. “Yours is really pretty,” Rose said.

“Thanks,” Cho said, smiling.

“Where’s Marietta?” Rose asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Cho said with a frown. “I haven’t seen her since DADA this afternoon.” Marietta didn’t really care for the DA, and she made no secret of the fact that she was only there because Cho dragged her along. Rose shrugged and left Cho to admiring her Patronus, and went back to help Neville and Lavender again.

They wrapped up the meeting with over half of them able to produce a Patronus, and the others were producing more silvery fog than they had at the start, so most everyone left the room pleased.

Ginny and Hermione hung back with Rose, who was always the last one to leave the Room of Requirement after a meeting. The DA left meetings in twos and threes minutes apart so there wouldn’t be a suspicious flood of students in the halls after meetings. 

Ginny’s Patronus, a speckled horse, nudged Rose’s stag in a cajoling manner, and she laughed when Prongs tossed his antlers like he was above such things. 

“Our Patronuses are dorks,” Ginny said, and then frowned. “Patronuses? Patroni? Hermione, what’s the plural of Patronus?”

“Patronuses,” Hermione replied absently, as she was reading Rose’s notes from her Defense Against the Dark notebook.

“Seems like too many S’s,” Ginny said, reaching out to pet the ghostly muzzle of her Patronus.

Rose checked Hermione’s wristwatch, and noted that it had been five minutes since the last group of three had left the Room of Requirement. 

“We can go now,” Rose said. “It’s been long enough.” 

The girls gathered up their things and left the Room of Requirement. The door hadn’t even closed behind them before Rose knew something was wrong. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Ginny swore quietly.

Umbridge was standing not fifteen feet away, an unbearably smug expression upon her face. The DA were standing in a line along the wall, angry expressions on every face, while Umbridge’s loyal Slytherins held them at wandpoint. 

They had been well and truly caught.

“Miss Potter,” Umbridge said sweetly, “I might have known you were behind this.”

For one long moment, Rose had no idea what she ought to do. She felt utterly blank.

“Marietta,” Hermione hissed. “Marietta must have told her. She hasn’t got any hard proof.”

“Behind what, Professor Umbridge?” asked Rose, feigning ignorance as hard as she could.

“Come now, Miss Potter,” Umbridge said with a girlish laugh. “You’ve been caught red handed. May as well come clean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“I’ve found something, Professor!” someone called from behind her. Rose turned in surprise - she hadn’t known anyone was behind them - as Pansy Parkinson swept from the Room of Requirement. She pushed through Ginny, Hermione, and Rose with a vicious little smirk upon her hateful face, and held aloft a very damning piece of evidence: the parchment upon which every member of the DA had written their names.

“Oh, no,” Rose groaned, only loud enough for Hermione and Ginny to hear. 

“We’re going to be expelled,” said Hermione.

“ _Incendio_ ,” said Ginny. 

Rose gasped and watched the spell impact the scroll in Pansy’s hand. Pansy screamed and dropped it as it quickly caught fire. Umbridge rushed over and stomped on it, putting out the flames. When they had gone out she carefully picked up what was left. Half of it had burned away, or was in ashes on the floor, but a good chunk was still intact.

“Detention, Miss Weasley,” Umbridge said coldly. “This evening in my office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ginny. She looked more peeved that her spell hadn’t burned more of the parchment away.

“Everyone follow me,” she said. “We are going to see the Headmaster about the lot of you breaking Educational Decree number twenty-four. I foresee detention for the rest of term for most of you. As for you, Miss Potter,” Umbridge said with a mean little smile, “I expect you’ll be expelled.”

Umbridge, the Slytherins, the DA, and Rose walked down the hall to Dumbledore’s office. His office wasn’t far from the Room of Requirement, and they reached it within minutes. Umbridge left everyone waiting in the hall, but grabbed Rose by the arm and dragged her up the revolving staircase.

Upon seeing the crowd in Dumbledore’s office, Rose realized that she might be in even deeper trouble than she had imagined. The bloody _Minister_ was here, along with two Aurors (one being Kingsley Shacklebolt, who Rose knew quite well), Percy Weasley (who Rose wanted to kick in the shin), Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Marietta Edgecombe (who was sporting an artistic array of boils, and attempting to hide her face in her hair).

“Well,” said Minister Fudge, glaring at Rose with a vicious sort of satisfaction.  “Well, well, well…”

“Hello, Minister,” said Rose politely.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Rose pasted on a confused expression.  “Not really, sir.”

Fudge looked incredulously at her, and Rose relished the rising look of fury on Umbridge’s toady face.  “So you have no idea,” Fudge said, “why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office?  You are not aware that you have been breaking any school rules?”

“Not at all, sir,” she said. “What am I meant to have done?”

Fudge had puffed up, and his voice was thick with anger, “So it’s news to you, is it, that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?”

Rose adopted a confused expression.  “Yes,” she said.

“Then how do you explain this?” Umbridge yelled, and brandished the DA’s hexed list of members in Rose’s face.

“I have no idea what that is,” Rose lied.

“Your name is on the top of this list, Miss Potter!” she said. “Your name, along with those of your closest friends, all under the heading, ‘Dumbledore’s Army!’”

Rose made a show of squinting at the list. There weren’t many names left on the parchment: only hers, Hermione, Lavender, Parvati, and Cedric. She thought she could make out Neville’s scrawl, and a bit of Ginny’s signature, but neither were very clear.

“That doesn’t look at all like my handwriting,” she lied again, and tipped her head to the side and squinted, like she was trying to see it. 

“You are lying, Miss Potter! You are the creator of this violent little club, and have been holding meetings in secret for months!  Those meetings continued up until this very evening!” she said shrilly.  “And I have a witness!”  She pointed to Marietta, who whimpered and hid her face in her hands.

Rose knew, however, that Marietta was a vain thing (almost as vain as Rose herself), and wouldn’t dare speak another word about the DA for fear of getting more boils across her face.

“Come now, dear,” Umbridge said sweetly, trying to cajole Marietta into speaking.  “Tell the Minister what you’ve told me, there’s a good girl—“

But Marietta wouldn’t speak.  She shook her head violently, and her hair swayed enough that Rose got a good look at her face.  There were close set purple pustules spread across her nose and cheeks that formed the word, ‘SNEAK.’

It was awful, and Rose winced for her, though Marietta had been warned and certainly deserved it.  “Oh, Marietta,” Rose said, “what an horrid curse!  You know, Hermione might have some cream that could—“

Marietta gave a wail, and shrank back from Rose.  Rose knew Marietta had been intimidated into silence by Rose’s mention of Hermione. She wouldn’t say another word.

“Miss Edgecombe,” said Umbridge, “tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear.  You can simply nod or shake your head, I’m sure that won’t make the spots worse.  Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?”

Marietta shook her head, hiding her face, and Rose felt a flash of satisfaction.

“What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?” said Umbridge, sounding testy.

“I would have thought the meaning was clear,” said McGonagall acidly.  “There have been no meetings for the past six months.  Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?”

Marietta nodded.

“But there was a meeting tonight!” said Umbridge furiously.  “There was a meeting!  Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement!  And Potter was the leader, Potter organized it—“

But Marietta was shaking her head.

Rose decided that if they got out of this, she would have Hermione reverse the hex for Marietta, despite having turned them in.

Umbridge lost it, and started shaking Marietta furiously by the shoulders, demanding that she tell the truth.  Dumbledore hexed her.

“I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,” he said, looking angry.

“You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,” said Kingsley.  “You don’t want to get yourself into trouble now.”

“No, you’re right,” she said breathlessly.  “I—I forgot myself.”  Rose scoffed. She rather thought she’d found herself.

“I don’t care what the girl says,” said Fudge, unclear as to whether he was talking about Rose or Marietta, and glowering at Dumbledore.  “’Dumbledore’s Army!’  Not ‘Potter’s Army’!  _Dumbledore’s Army!_ ”

Dumbledore looked impassive.

“You can’t deny this, Dumbledore!” he said, shaking the DA parchment in the headmaster’s face.  “You’re behind this!  You likely put her up to it—“ he gestured furiously at Rose, “—and got her to do all your dirty work!”

“I never did any such thing, Minister!” Rose lied.  “Educational Decree number twenty-four—“

“As though anyone believes you, Miss Potter,” he snarled.  “You were meeting tonight under _his_ orders!” He turned to Dumbledore. “You’re behind this, Dumbledore!  You’re plotting against me, and using these children to form your own army!  It says so _right here_ ,” he shook the parchment violently, turning an unhealthy purple.

Dumbledore pulled the parchment from Fudge’s fist, and made a little production of examining the list.  His eyes were almost fond as he read Hermione’s bold script along the top.  He flicked his gaze towards Rose, and then smiled at Fudge.

“I’m afraid, Miss Potter, that the jig is up.”

“Huh?”

“You needn’t protect me any longer, Rose.  The blame falls on me.  Well, Cornelius, would you like a written confession, or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?”

Fudge looked gobsmacked.  “Statement?  You’re _confessing?_ ”

“Certainly,” said Dumbledore cheerfully.  “I’ve organized these students into my own army—“ he set the parchment on fire with a flick of his fingers, and it burned up before it hit the floor, “—or rather, I was going to.  Miss Potter was helpful enough to find interested parties at the Hog’s Head, and I asked her to assemble everyone for the first meeting this evening.  Unfortunately, I’ve been caught.”

“Professor!” said Rose, ignoring the looks that Kingsley and McGonagall were throwing at her.  “You can’t—“

“Be quiet, Rose,” he said calmly, “or I am afraid you shall have to leave my office.”

Things got a bit funny after that.


	13. Year Five, Part 6

  


In accordance with the latest Educational Decree, Dolores Umbridge had replaced Dumbledore as Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Though Rose was unhappy and felt horribly guilty for being the cause of Dumbledore now being on the run from the law and being fired from his job, when the twins proclaimed that their ‘opportune moment’ had arrived, she felt a thrill of excitement.

And just in time too.

After being accosted by Draco, who was sporting a shiny new badge marking him as a member of Umbridge’s newly formed Inquisitorial Squad, and losing ten points for having poor taste in boyfriends, Rose was called to Umbridge’s office.

Rose entered Umbridge’s frilly pink domain, and was offered tea.

“What?” said Rose, sure that she had misheard.

“What do you take in your tea?” repeated Umbridge.

“Milk.  Two sugars.”  Rose frowned at the cup when it was set down in front of her. It was a delicate thing with painted pink roses, and she was certain it was poisoned.  She had read enough fairy tales to know the signs, and this situation smacked of being offered a poisoned apple.

“Drink up,” said Umbridge, smiling sweetly.  And if that wasn’t a sign that she ought not drink, Rose didn’t know what was.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Professor?” she asked.

Umbridge sipped her tea, and motioned for Rose to do the same.  Feeling that she could not get out of it, Rose raised the cup to her lips and pretended to sip.

“Good.  Very good,” Umbridge said, sounding very much like Rose had always imagined the old crone to sound in Snow White.  “Now then… _where is Albus Dumbledore?_ ”

Rose blinked. She had walked into Umbridge’s office expecting to be unceremoniously expelled, not interrogated.  

“I don’t know, Professor.” She was surprised at the line of questioning. Why did Umbridge think Rose should know where Dumbledore was hiding? 

“Drink up,” said Umbridge, smiling.  “Let’s not play games, Miss Potter.  I know that you know where he has gone.  You and Dumbledore are very close—“

“Actually, we’re not.  I get the impression that he’s rather disappointed with me most of the time…”

This was… very true… a little too true… and Rose realized that she’d been _very stupid_ and had taken a sip of her tea while she was distracted.  She waited to keel over dead, but didn’t… though she was starting to feel woozy.

Rose set down her teacup, and it clattered loudly in the saucer.

“Where is Albus Dumbledore?” Umbridge asked again, and Rose, in relief, felt the truth spill out of her.

“I don’t know.”

She could make a guess.  A very good guess.  But it was just that – a guess.  Not the truth.

Umbridge started babbling about having the might of the Ministry of Magic behind her, and Rose tuned her out, finding it incredibly easy.  The whole world seemed misty and funny. The little kittens jumping around on the decorative plates behind Umbridge’s head were rather sweet once you got past how tacky they were.

Fingers snapped in front of Rose’s face, and she startled so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Miss Potter!  Are you listening to me?”

“No,” she said immediately.  “I like your kittens.”

“What is the matter with you?”

“You poisoned me.  I may die, though I feel rather pleasant right now.  Did you know that you look like a toad in a pink sweater?”

Later, Rose would thank the twins with hugs and a bottle of firewhiskey for what happened at that very opportune moment.

_BOOM!_

The floor of the office shook, and Umbridge wobbled sideways, nearly knocking over a small doily covered table.  Rose snickered.  “Oooh, explosions.  Those are fun.”

“What was—?”

People were running through the hall outside the office.  “Are they having a race?” Rose asked excitedly.

Umbridge was torn between looking disconcerted at Rose’s behavior and needing to see what was going on outside.  “Back to lunch with you, Potter!” she snapped, and hurried out the office door.

Rose tried standing, and found it difficult.  She teetered and caught herself on the back of the chair.  “Oh, I am definitely dying,” she said to herself, as she stumbled out of Umbridge’s office. 

Rose made her way out to the hallway, using the wall to help keep her feet where they belonged – under her – and found it full of pretty lights.  A great green dragon made of sparkles swooped down at Rose. She reached out a hand to catch it, and missed.

“No!” she said.  “Come back!  You’re my favorite.”

Rose ran up the staircase after the dragon, but she was too slow.  It dipped and dived, and she threw herself at the railing to see where it had gone.  It was only two floors down, she could just— Rose threw a leg over the railing, and was about to move the other, when something pulled her violently back.

“No!” she cried.  “It’s going to get away!”

“What are you _doing?!_ ”

She knew that voice!  Rose looked up into the eyes of her rescuer.  “I was going after the dragon, but you’re a better dragon. A Draco Dragon.” She snickered at the pun.

“What the hell were you doing?” Draco said, clutching her shoulders. He was shaking. It made Rose dizzy.  “You almost killed yourself!”

“Hey. Get away from me,” said Rose, as she suddenly remembered that Draco didn’t like her any more. She batted ineffectually at his hands and tried to wriggle away. “You’re mean to me now.  I don’t like it.”

“Not a chance, you lunatic.  What happened to you? Are you _drunk?_ ”

“No. Umbridge poisoned me.  Poison tea,” she sang.  “Makes me tell the truth, and now I feel funny.”

Draco’s eyes went very narrow.  “Come with me.”

“No. Not going anywhere with you. You don’t like me.” Rose huffed and tried to pull her arm away, but Draco wouldn’t let go. She sagged in defeat.  

“Why do you hate me now, Draco?  Why can’t we be friends anymore?”  He dragged her down the staircases, completely ignoring the bedlam going on around them.  “You say terrible things to me, but I still miss you, you _arsehole_.”

He cast her a sideways glance.  “You should shut up.  You’ll regret saying all this later.”

“No, I won’t.  My mother did, I’m sure of it, but I don’t want to be like my mum and Snape!  That’s awful.  She died, and now they’ll never be able to make up. He’ll always think she still hates him.  But I don’t hate you, Draco. I mean, I’m mad— no, more than that— I’m _furious_ , but I don’t hate you.”

He stared straight ahead, mouth tight, pretending to ignore her.

“But you know what?” she said, yanking on him so they would stop the dizzying walking. She stumbled into him, and poked his chest with a finger. “You know what, _Snivellus?_ ”

“Who the hell is—“

“You’d better hope that Cedric isn’t my James Potter, Snivellus. You’d better hope, because _boy_ , does he ever have his foot in the door.”

“You’re not making any sense,” he said, frowning.

“But you know, I don’t think my mum liked Snape the way I like you,” Rose went on.  “But I guess it doesn’t matter now, because Umbridge killed me with her poisoned tea.”

“You’re not going to die,” Draco said.  “We’re going to get the antidote right now.”

“Where?”

“Snape.  I think you’ve been overdosed with Veritaserum.”

“Oh. Truth potion. Potion of truthiness.” A wicked idea occurred to her. She grinned, and swayed into Draco. “Hey. Truth potion. You could ask me anything and I’d have to tell you the truth.” She snickered. “ _Anything_.”

Draco eyed her warily, and pushed her carefully back. “We should go see Snape. Now.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the corridor.

“Come on, Draco. Isn’t there anything you’ve been dying to ask me? If you’d been truth-poisoned I would have so many questions for you. _So many_.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Like, why did you start dating Pansy? I came back from hols last year all ready to be Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend, and there you were. Pansy Parkinson hanging all over you. Like a leech.” 

Draco stopped dead, and Rose bumped into him. He looked shocked.

“And apparently you’re fucking her, so you know what, Draco?” she said, that icy cold feeling seizing her gut. “ _You’re_ the one with the spreading legs. Not me. I’m a virgin, thank you very much.”

If anything he looked even more shocked, and Rose felt like she ought to explain herself very clearly.

“Virgin,” she said slowly. “It means that I haven’t had sex. Ever. Unlike you.” 

Draco scowled. “Yeah, well, at least I’ve got some standards. Unlike you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please Rose. You might still be a virgin, but you sure weren’t picky this summer.”

“This summer?”

“Wild Rose is at it again,” he quoted, in a voice like a news caster. “Seen in the company of three different men at the Amortentia Club last evening - which brings Wild Rose’s number of conquests up to a _staggering_ twenty wizards.” He snorted. “You are not the girl I thought you were.”

“Oh, fuck you, Draco. You believed that?” Rose said. “I spent my summer holed up at home, because Voldemort wants me dead! _And_ , I have the most over-protective godfather _ever_ , and if you think for a second that Sirius would let me get away with all the things my impostor did this summer you’re _crazy_.”

“Stop lying about it!” Draco shouted. “I was there, Rose! I know it was you. We—“

“It wasn’t me!” she cried. “I never saw you last summer. Not once!”

“We talked! I tried to tell— You wouldn’t listen to me. You told me to run along home to my mummy,” he snarled.

“It wasn’t me!” she repeated. “There was someone using Polyjuice and impersonating me at the night clubs. I’m not lying! I can’t lie right now!”

Draco frowned. “Maybe you weren’t dosed with Veritaserum. Tell me a lie,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re a Slytherin.”

“I’m a S—“ The word felt stolen from her throat. “I’m a S— I’m a—“

Draco looked like he might be sick. 

“It really wasn’t you?”

“It wasn’t me,” she repeated. “So, all this time you thought… Were you jealous? Because you thought I was having sex with all those other people, but I wouldn’t give you the time of day? Is that why you’ve been treating me like this? Is that why you hate me now?”

“No,” he said. 

“If you were as high on Veritaserum as I am you wouldn’t be able to say that.”

“You know there’s more going on here than who you’re snogging,” he snapped. “I have more important things to consider than how I feel about— Never mind.”

“Oh, right, cause the Dark Lord is back in town! Future Death Eaters unite. You’ve got quite a career in murder and torture to look forward to.”

“Shut up.”

“Your mum and dad will be very proud!” she said sarcastically. And frowned. “Oh. They probably will be proud, won’t they? Merlin, that’s messed up.”

He looked away and shook his head. 

“Rose, stop talking.”

“Why would you choose Voldemort over me? That’s just stupid.”

“Rose—“

“At least I don’t _Crucio_ people when I’m annoyed with them! Obviously, or else I’d have Unforgivable-d half the school by now for saying things about me.”

“No, you just get that disappointed deer look on your face—It’s worse.”

Rose frowned at him skeptically. “Have you ever even been _Crucio_ -ed? What’s a disappointed deer look like anyway?”

“No,” Draco said. “We’re done talking. That’s— that’s enough. I can’t—“

“Oh no, I’ve got another question!” she said. “Why did you say those terrible things to me on the Quidditch pitch? You were so cruel. Even if you were jealous, I never thought you could be that mean to me.” Rose felt herself shaking, and swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. “I thought you still—maybe, cared about me. A little. Even though— But _my Draco_ would never have—“

“Merlin, _stop_.” He shut his eyes and shook his head. “We need to go. You could be dying.” They set off down the corridor again, her hand clutched in his.

He tugged her out of the way when a stray Catherine wheel buzzed down the hall. In the distance she heard a small explosion and people laughing. Rose looked up and caught Draco trying to blank his expression, failing to hide the miserable tilt to his mouth and the brightness in his eyes.

“Why won’t you just say you’re sorry?” she asked. His mouth twisted.

“Because it doesn’t change anything.” 

Rose snorted.

“That’s a rotten apology, Snivellus. You’re going to have to do better than that.” Rose noticed that her hand was in Draco’s when he squeezed it tightly. He had nice hands. Square, warm, long fingers.  “I like holding your hand,” she said.

He sighed, a sad, broken sound, and they finally stopped in front of Snape’s office door.

“I come here every Monday and Wednesday,” said Rose.  “Snape gives me lessons.”

“Lessons in what?” he asked, knocking on the door.

“We call it Remedial Potions.”  She snorted.  “But it’s not. Shh, don’t tell.”

Draco frowned, “Then what—“

The door opened and Snape appeared, looking dour and terrifying.  His eyebrow quirked at the sight of the unlikely pair. “Well?” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Hello, Professor!” Rose said.  “I’m here for you to save me.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose felt very, very stupid once the antidote kicked in.

She had to spend the night in the hospital wing, and filled out another incident report to add to Madam Pomfrey’s ever-growing file of reports of abuse against the students of Hogwarts perpetuated by Dolores Umbridge.  Rose liked the look of that file.  It looked like a sentence in Azkaban; especially because they could now add ‘attempted murder’ to the list of charges.

Rose had apparently come very near to dying.  Had she taken one more sip of the tainted tea, she would have been killed.

Snape railed at her for a solid hour about the absolute stupidity of accepting drinks that may be poisoned.  Rose felt the monstrous headache was punishment enough.

Luckily, Draco had made himself scarce after leaving her in Snape’s care, so she didn’t have to deal with that embarrassment on top of everything else.

The worst part was that Rose could remember every word that she had uttered.  It was night in the hospital wing now, and Rose was meant to be asleep.  She buried her face in her pillow and moaned miserably.

“You’re such an idiot,” she said to herself.

When Rose did finally succumb to sleep, she fell immediately into a dream of the corridor, and the door… which now opened…

The dark door opened on another room, a circular one, which was lined with identical doors.  Rose placed her hand on a door that looked the same as the first, and it opened as well.

With a burst of excitement (she couldn’t believe she’d gotten this far!) she was in a long rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking sound.  There were dancing flecks of light on the walls, but she didn’t care to look around… this was not the right room… she had to go on…

Through another door at the far end of the room… it opened too at her touch…

The room she entered now was dimly lit, as high and wide as a cathedral, full of nothing but rows upon rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres… her heart was pounding with excitement.  This was the right room!  It was here!  She knew where to go… she ran forward, her footsteps made no noise…

There was something here she wanted very much…

Her scar hurt.

BANG!

Rose awoke instantly, confused and angry.  The hospital wing was filled with a pink light.  She craned her neck to look out the window, and saw a flock of pink piglets with silver wings flying through the sky outside.

:: :: :: ::

Rose knew that after a dream like that, she was going to be in for it with Snape.  He would, undoubtedly, pull that precise memory from her mind, and she would be in for a scolding just as bad as the one she’d received the previous evening.

She went to Snape’s office for her Occlumency lesson, dragging her feet.  She had never looked forward to these things, but today she longed for a reason to get out of it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.  His wand went to his temple, pulled out a memory, and put it in the pensive on his desk.  Rose often wondered which memories Snape was so protective of, but was never brave (or suicidal) enough to ask.

“Much better today.  Thank you, sir.”

“I attempted to find another method to teach you Occlumency, but was unsuccessful.  We will continue on as we have been.  You will simply have to try harder.  Have you been practicing?”

Rose sagged at this news.  She had been hoping for a miracle cure.  “Yes, sir.”  Though it had done her little good.

“We shall see,” he said.  “Wand out.”

Snape’s office door banged open, and Draco barged in.

“Professor Snape, sir—oh—sorry.”

Draco looked curiously between Snape and Rose.  She blushed, and turned away from him.  Rose hardly heard as Draco told Snape about having found Montague at last, and Umbridge needing his help.  She pressed her hands to her cheeks and willed the flush in her cheeks to go away.

“Miss Potter,” said Snape.  “We will resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape hurried out, and Rose accidentally caught Draco’s eye.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but looked at the floor instead and followed Snape out.

Rose followed slowly after them.

:: :: :: ::

As if Rose didn’t have enough things to worry about yet another was piled on her, and though it probably shouldn’t have mattered so much Rose found it very distressing.

“Career advice?” she said, eyeing the notice that had been tacked on the board in the Gryffindor Common room.  Rose was set to meet with McGonagall at half past two on Monday.

This unexpected meeting sent Rose into a tailspin of anxiety.

Hermione was having a ball going through all the pamphlets that had been left for their perusal, and had made a long list of careers that she found interesting.

Rose, on the other hand, “Why didn’t you tell me that I’d need Arithmancy to be a curse breaker?!”

“You don’t like maths, Rose,” said Hermione patiently, as she poured over a leaflet about working in Muggle Relations.  “Arithmancy is magical maths.”

“But I might have wanted to be a curse breaker!” she cried.  “Travel, adventure, and danger!  This is the perfect job for me!”

Hermione sighed.  “Think of where you’d be traveling to.  Remote locations.  No hotels.  Dirt, dust, and sunburns.”

“Oh,” said Rose, and tossed the Gringotts pamphlet aside.  “Yeah, that sounds awful.”

With those parameters in mind, Rose quickly eliminated Healing (blood, sick people), dragon taming (dirt, 3rd degree burns), training security trolls (the smell), professional Quidditch (rigorous training schedule, constant sweat), Herbologist (dirt), Potions Mastery (greasy hair, potion fumes), and a long list of others… which left Rose with…

“Nothing.  I have no career aspirations.  I am a directionless _thing_.”

“You don’t need to decide now,” said Hermione.  “This is just a meeting.  You can discuss options with Professor McGonagall.”

Rose was not appeased, and dropped her head onto folded arms.  “I’m going to live in poverty.”

“You’re independently wealthy,” Hermione reminded her.

“I’ll be a useless play girl.  I truly will be The Girl Who Lived to Party.”

Hermione patted her head absently.  “I won’t let that happen.  I’d nag until you got a job.”

“What’s the matter with Rose?” asked George, taking the seat beside her.  She felt the chair on her other side being occupied and knew she was surrounded by twins.

“She’s a directionless _thing_ ,” said Hermione.

“I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up,” said Rose, voice small and pitiful.

George poked her.  She gave a yelp and glared at him.  “There’s always a job for you at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, you directionless thing.”

This was very sweet, but Rose thought of the perils of working for the twins (unwilling product tester, noxious fumes, and being the butt of pranks).  She smiled anyway.  “Thank you.”

They both nudged her at once, reading her tone.  “You’ll be begging us for a job before long,” they said.

“Probably,” she moaned sadly, and dropped her head back on folded arms.

They pulled her unresisting form out of the chair.  “Come on, Rosie.  We’ve got something for you.”

The twins dragged her up the boys’ staircase and up to their dormitory.  They plopped her at the end of Fred’s bed, and stood in front of her, wearing identical serious expressions.

“What is it?” she asked.

They shared a look, and said, “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“What?  Tomorrow!  That’s so soon!”

“We stayed nearly a month longer than we intended to,” said Fred.

“You’ll see us over the summer,” said George.  “Maybe you could even work part time in the shop.”

Rose fished up a smile for them.  She didn’t want to be a wet blanket on their last night at Hogwarts.  “I know.  So, what do you have planned, and can I help?”

“Nah,” said George, “we’re good with the plan.”

“We just wanted to give you something,” said Fred.

George pulled the Map out of his back pocket, and handed it to her.  “You’re giving me your map?” she said faintly.

They sat on either side of her.  “It’ll do us no good in London,” said Fred. “Besides, your dad and godparents made it. It should be yours.”

“You must promise to use it for mischief,” said George, looking very serious.  “Do you solemnly swear?”

Rose smiled.  “I solemnly swear.”

The three of them went down to the Chamber of Secrets one last time, to pick up the trunks of Basilisk bits, and to get completely drunk on firewhiskey with their friends.

While they were waiting for Lee, Angie, Alicia and Katie to join them, the twins and Rose conjured up some cushions, and passed the bottle around.

“Why won’t you tell me what you’re going to do?” Rose whined, when they refused again to explain just what ‘going out with a bang’ meant.

They grinned, and laughed at her petulant expression.  “Nothing doing,” they said.  “You’ll find out with everyone else.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, and snagged the bottle back from George.  Rose didn’t like firewhiskey much, but by this point she hardly noticed the burn.

“I’m glad we’re friends again,” said George.  “I missed being your friend.”

“Me too.”

“And, I mean, the kissing was great,” he said.

“Awesome,” she agreed.

“But it was more like—“

“Really friendly kissing,” she finished for him.

“Exactly.”  He grinned and kissed her cheek.

“And now she’s with pretty boy Diggory,” said Fred.

“Why don’t you like Cedric?” whined Rose.  “He’s very nice.”

They both made faces, and Rose laughed.

:: :: :: ::

The next day was very unpleasant, until a bleary eyed Fred palmed Rose a vial of hangover draught.

“You are my favorite Weasley,” she said, downing it.  Her headache and nausea miraculously disappeared, and she was able to eat some breakfast.

“Love you too, Rosie,” he said, patting her shoulder.

The twins had told her that the expulsion would be occurring just before dinner, so Rose had to live through the whole day before she could find out what the twins had planned.  They had warned her to avoid the east wing after four o’clock, lest she be victim of the prank.  Rose was torn between heeding their advice, and wanting to be in the middle of it…

In the meantime, she had a distraction in the form of her career advice meeting with McGonagall.  Unfortunately, Umbridge was there as well.  Her clipboard was set on her knee, and a horrible smug smile was on her face.  McGonagall looked pinched, as she often did in Umbridge’s presence.

“Hello, Professors,” said Rose, taking the seat in front of McGonagall’s desk.

“Well, Miss Potter,” said McGonagall, shifting around career pamphlets on her desk, while Umbridge’s quill scratched annoyingly on her clipboard.  Rose wondered what on earth she could be writing.  “This meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into sixth and seventh years.  Have you had any thoughts about what you’d like to do after you leave Hogwarts?”

Rose found the scratching noise from Umbridge’s quill very distracting.  “Yes, but…”

“Yes, but?” McGonagall prompted.

“Well, I don’t know _precisely_ what I’d like to do, but I do know what I don’t want to do.  I mean, curse breaking sounded like fun, but the remote locations and no hotels and dirt and dust and sweat kind of turned me off, and I felt the same about all those careers that we had pamphlets on in the common room.  Nothing really interested me after I’d thought about it for awhile.”  Rose knew she was babbling, but was unable to stop it.  She couldn’t even hear herself over the _skritch, skritch_ of Umbridge’s quill.

“I see,” said McGonagall, sounding as if she didn’t.

“Plus, I didn’t take Arithmancy, so curse breaking was out in any case.  Professional Quidditch would be great, but there’s the—“

“You’ve a lifetime ban,” said Umbridge, giving a smirk.

“Well, yes, there’s that,” said Rose, making it clear that her ‘ban’ wasn’t a deciding factor.  “But also the rigorous training schedule, and the sweating… I don’t mind it sometimes, but constantly?  I don’t like to sweat, Professor.”

McGonagall rubbed the vein that was popping in her forehead.  “What careers _did_ interest you, Miss Potter?”

“Oh, well, there was… None of them.”

They both looked at her, blinking.  “None?” said McGonagall.

“None.”

McGonagall looked quite at a loss, and began flicking through the folder she had on her desk.  Rose surmised that it was her exam scores when McGonagall said, “You’ve always excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Miss Potter.  Why not a career in that?”

Umbridge gave a little cough.

“Well,” said Rose, scrunching up her nose.  “I don’t…”

“An Auror, perhaps?” said McGonagall.

“I’m not…”

Umbridge gave another little cough.

“Do you need a cough drop, Dolores?” asked McGonagall, testy.

“Oh, no, thank you Minerva,” she simpered.  “I just wondered if I could make the teensiest interruption?”

McGonagall’s eyes rose to the ceiling in a ‘why, God, why?’ gesture.  “I dare say you will.”

“I was just wondering whether Miss Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?”

“I am a bit high strung at times,” admitted Rose.  She was agreeing with Umbridge - the horror - but was trying to think of situations in Auror-ing where she might encounter dirt, odd smells, noxious goo, and a distinct lack of clean bathrooms.  There were many.  And paperwork - wasn't there a lot of paperwork?

Unfortunately, just as Rose had come to the conclusion that her future career probably wouldn’t include becoming an Auror, McGonagall and Umbridge were nearly at each other’s throats.

“She has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!” Umbridge shrilled.

“Miss Potter!” said McGonagall, “I will assist you in becoming an Auror if it is the last thing I do!”

“That won’t be necessary, Professor, but thank you.”  They both cut their eyes to Rose, incredulous.  “I’m not certain that’s the right job for me.  You know, when I was little I wanted to be a film star.”

McGonagall sat down heavily in her chair.  “A film star?”

“Yes,” said Rose, remembering how she had flounced around in her pageant dresses and practiced Oscar speeches in the mirror.  “I might like that…  Of course, I also wanted to be a ballerina, a pop star, an astronaut, and oh, I _really_ wanted to marry Prince William… Still do, kind of.”

McGonagall closed her eyes, and sighed deeply.  “I think this meeting is over.  That concludes our career consultation, Miss Potter.”

Rose stood, actually feeling a little bit better about her future. All her childhood dreams basically boiled down to being famous, and she was already famous. So technically, her work here was done. _What’s next for Rose Potter_ , she wondered. She could do anything, anything at all, and it would just be icing on the cake. Whatever she chose it would surely be fantastic, and she had time to figure it out. 

She smiled at them both, though the one she sent Umbridge had an edge, and left the office feeling buoyant.

And then she remembered that the twins’ big send off would be starting soon, and staked out a spot in the entrance hall to watch the fun.

:: :: :: ::

Though the twins had gone, blowing Rose kisses before they flew off into the sunset, Hogwarts was in a state of absolute mayhem.  Now that the resident pranksters had gone (and in such a fabulous fashion), the students were vying for top dog position.  Though Rose had gotten caught in dungbomb backlash twice, she didn’t mind, because all the pranks were driving Umbridge completely round the bend – and she and Filch were unable to reverse the spell that Fred and George had cast over the fifth floor corridor in the East wing, so it remained a swamp, and nearly impossible to traverse.  Classes had to be held in different rooms, and students had to take the long way around, but whenever anyone felt the urge to complain, they need only look at Umbridge’s hair, which was now in an almost permanent state of frazzled disarray, and smile about it.

Despite the continuance of twice weekly Occlumency lessons, Rose still dreamed of ‘the place with the thing’ as she now referred to it – finding ‘the corridor, the circle room, the sparkly room, and the room with all the baubles’ to be a rather long description.

And she now knew which aisle in the ‘room with all the baubles’ where the ‘thing’ was located.  Aisle 97.

Of course, this information did Rose little good, as she still didn’t know _where_ ‘the place with the thing’ was actually located.  It could be anywhere.  It might not even be in Britain.

The ‘thing’ was clearly one of these baubles, because that was all that was in the ‘room with all the baubles’.  But she didn’t have any idea what the baubles actually were.

The burning questions made her want to tear her hair out.

During the Quidditch final, Rose finally found out why Hagrid was walking around looking like someone had been using him as a punching bag.  She only sighed when he’d introduced her to his half-brother Grawp, and said, “Oh, Hagrid, you didn’t.”

But he had.  Rose promised Hagrid when asked that if something were to happen to him (and really, she was shocked that Umbridge hadn’t sacked him yet) that she would come to the Forbidden Forest to chat with Grawp once in a while.  For Hagrid, Rose would do nearly anything.

Gryffindor, through some miracle, managed to win the Quidditch Cup, and Ginny managed to lose her boyfriend.

“Michael’s an arse,” she said after the game.  “He was a sore loser, and kept saying that Chang is really a better Seeker than I am, she was just off her game.  Off her bloody nut, more like.  I chucked him.”

Rose almost wished Ginny would take Michael back, because now she was around all the time, and bugging Rose when she needed to be studying for OWL’s.  As much as she loved Ginny, Rose was in a state of panic over the exams, nearing Hermione-levels of mania.

:: :: :: ::

In the end, Rose needn’t have worried so much about the OWL’s.  She had some trouble with the written part of the exams, but in the practical she never once screwed up a spell.  She thought this might get her E’s across the board.  Hopefully an O in DADA.

It was during Rose’s Astronomy exam that Umbridge finally sacked Hagrid in a violent fashion.  He got away before the Aurors could take him, but McGonagall wasn’t so lucky.  She was hit with four stunning spells, and had to be taken to St. Mungo’s.  Rose had never known Madam Pomfrey to be unable to fix any ailment, so this was particularly worrisome.

It wasn’t surprising that Rose was having difficulty with the History of Magic exam – she had, after all, slept through every class this year – she couldn’t remember names and dates, and sat with her head in her hand and re-read the questions over and over, hoping for inspiration to strike.

She was being asked to describe what led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards (which Rose thought Dumbledore might be a member of…) and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join…

The trouble was that Binns liked to put a special emphasis on Goblin history, and all Rose could recall from class was that the Goblins had tried to attend the conference and were thrown out… which didn’t help her to answer the bloody question.

She tossed her quill down in disgust and pressed her palms to her eyes.  _Think_ , she thought, _you’ve read through Hermione’s notes, which admittedly were a little_ too _thorough, but you’ve seen this… remember it_ …

Rose thought very hard, imagining Hermione’s precise handwriting covering pages and pages of notes…

She was walking along the cool, dark corridor.  Her steps were confident, now that she knew where to go, even running occasionally, determined to reach Aisle 97… The black door swung open at her touch, and here was the circular room with its many doors…

Quickly now through the sparkly room with the clicking, but no time to explore, she had to hurry…  The door opened into the room with all the baubles just as easily as the others…

Her heart was beating very quickly now… She was going to get there this time… She was going to find it, figure out which one of these baubles she wanted… when she reached aisle ninety seven she turned left and hurried along the aisle between two towering rows…

But there was something there.  A dark shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal.  Rose’s heart froze in fear.

A voice issued from her own mouth, though she wasn’t speaking.  It was high and cold, and familiar… “Take it for me… Lift it down, now,” she said.  “I cannot touch it… but you can…”

The black shape on the floor shifted a little.  Rose saw a long fingered, white hand clutching a wand rise from the end of her arm… heard the voice say, “ _Crucio!_ ”

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand, but fell back, writhing.  The voice was laughing.  She raised her wand, the curse lifted, and the man groaned and fell still.

“Lord Voldemort is waiting…” she said.

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head.  His face was streaked with blood, twisted in pain, but rigid with defiance.

“You’ll have to kill me,” whispered Sirius.

Somebody else was screaming now; Voldemort lifted his wand again, and Sirius’s eyes were hard and nearly feral, but there was this girlish _shrieking_ … and Rose fell out of her chair and onto the cold stone floor – her scar on fire – and the Great Hall erupted around her.

:: :: :: ::


	14. Year Five, Part 7

  


“Get away from me!” Rose screamed at little Professor Tofty, who had attempted to help Rose to her feet, but she was already scrambling.

She didn’t mind the stares and whispers from her classmates, they were _so completely unimportant_ , and Rose ran for the doors of the Great Hall, chanting, “No, no, nononono…”

“Pressure of examinations!” said the old wizard to the other students.  “Never mind that now, everyone.  Only a few minutes left—“

Rose burst through the doors, and tore up the Grand Staircase.

This could not be happening.  It couldn’t.  It just couldn’t.

Terror clawed up her throat, and she ran for Gryffindor Tower as quickly as she could.

The hallways were crowded with students just leaving exams, and Rose plowed through them, heedless of the second years she knocked to the floor.

Finally in Gryffindor Tower, she ran up to her dormitory – empty, everyone else was still in the exam – and threw open her trunk.  The mirror was in here somewhere, and she could just make sure… he was okay, he _had_ to be okay… Snape said that Voldemort could use the visions against her… and, and…

She was sobbing as her hand closed around the mirror.  “Si-Sirius!” she cried.

For a while it seemed like nothing would happen, but then his face appeared, grinning.  “Lo, Rosie.  How are your exams going?”

Rose clapped a hand over her mouth, relief so great she was shaking with it.  “Oh, God.  Oh, God, thank you.  Merlin.”  She dropped her head between her knees, gasping for breath now that she had the time to think about trivialities like breathing.

Sirius voice was worried with a note of panic, calling her name, she could hear it faintly from the mirror still held in her limp hand.  One more breath, and a quick swipe at the tears staining her face, and she held the mirror up to her face.

“Hi,” she said.  “Sorry.”

“What is going on?  What’s happened to you?  Has Umbridge—“

“No, no,” she said, “Nothing like that.  Voldemort sent me this fake vision of you, and he was tor-torturing you— It was just like when Arthur—“

“Oh, Rose.  I’m fine, honey.  See?  Right here.  Limbs intact.  No more tears, okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak at the moment, sobs of relief choking her.

“You still haven’t got the hang of Occlumency then?” he asked.  She shook her head, attempting to calm herself down.  She shut her eyes, and let out a long breath.

“No, I’m terrible at it.  I’ve been trying, but I just can’t… I can’t get it.”

“It’s probably Snape’s fault.  That effing—“

“It’s not.  He’s been trying, really.  He’s frustrated with me, but he’s still been trying.  I think I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, summer hols are almost here, and then you won’t need to worry about greasy Snivellus any longer,” he grinned, cajoling.  “Are you better now?”

She hummed out an affirmative, and wiped any lingering tears away.  “I’m fine now.”

“Tell me about your OWL’s.”

Grateful to Sirius for knowing that she needed a subject change, Rose rattled off how she thought she’d done on her exams thus far.  Thankfully, History of Magic was her final one, and she’d been expecting to do poorly on it anyhow.

Sirius found this amusing.  “Tell you what, if you get better scores than I did on the OWL’s, you can choose where we have dinner every night of the summer hols.  I don’t think it’s likely, but…”

She snorted.  “What if I do better than Remus?”

“Then I’ll buy you a new broomstick.  Maybe a Quidditch team.”

Rose laughed.

“I have to help Molly with dinner,” he said.  “You can call back later if you’d like.”

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling the burn of tears again.  Merlin, she was so glad that he was all right.  “I’m going to go down for dinner… Hermione is probably wondering why I went mad in the middle of the exam.”

“Bye then, Rosie.”

“Bye.”

She dropped the mirror onto her bed, and fell back onto her pillows, pressing her hands to her eyes.  She took many slow, deep breaths, and when she felt like she would not break into a thousand pieces, got up and fixed her makeup.

:: :: :: ::

After changing out of her school uniform into more comfortable Muggle clothes, and making certain that all the redness from her crying had been adequately covered, Rose made her way back down to the Great Hall to have dinner, and to endure the stares of her classmates.

But before she could reach them, Umbridge found her.

“Miss Potter!”  She latched her be-ringed hand around Rose’s arm painfully.  “You have immediate detention!”

“What for?” asked Rose, as she was dragged along.  She was going to bruise.

“For your disruption of the History of Magic examination!  I heard all about your screaming fit, you horrid brat.  I don’t know where you get off, thinking that your fame excuses such behavior!  But not in my school!”

She pulled Rose through the door to Umbridge’s office, and all but threw Rose down into the chair behind the little desk where she had served her previous detention. Rose glared as Umbridge slapped a long roll of parchment and the blood quill down on the desk.

“You will write, ‘I must not make a scene,’ until I tell you to stop!  Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Rose muttered, and put the quill to parchment.

Umbridge sat down behind her desk, and fluffed her hair.  Rose wanted to tell her that it wouldn’t help.  Her hair was beyond hope.

“I ought to have you expelled,” said Umbridge.

“I haven’t done anything,” said Rose.

“You’re an instigator of trouble,” said Umbridge.  “You should have been thrown out with Dumbledore!  I know that you’ve been holding meetings of your little army—“

“You haven’t got any proof.” Besides, she hadn’t held a meeting since Dumbledore had sacrificed himself for the whole DA.

“I don’t need it,” Umbridge said nastily.  “I’m the Headmistress of this school now, and I have the power of the Ministry behind my every action.  No one would bat an eye if I had you thrown out.”

Rose glared, the quill digging into the parchment as she wrote.

“I’m certain that you’re behind half of the pranks that have been pulled since those horrible Weasley twins have left.  Everyone knows the three of you were thick as thieves.”

“I’ve had nothing to do with—“

“You’re a liar!  You’ve lied about many things this school year, and you lied about the Dark Lord’s return… and I’ll prove it.”

Rose feigned indifference, and kept her eyes on her parchment until Umbridge had her back turned.  The toady woman put her head in the fire, and called for Professor Snape’s office.  Rose could not hear Snape’s half of the conversation, but did hear Umbridge say, “Professor Snape, if you would be so kind, I need another bottle of Veritaserum.”

Rose gaped.  Umbridge was going to try to poison her again!  For Merlin sake, what was wrong with this woman?

But apparently Snape didn’t have what Umbridge wanted.

“You can make more, can’t you?  …What do you mean, a month?  But I need it this evening, Snape! …Potter needs to be disciplined.  She is lying, once again, and I have had enough… You are on probation!  You are being entirely unhelpful!  I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks very highly of you!”

She pulled her head out of the fire, hair frizzier than even Hermione’s on a bad day, and Rose sent a smirk at the parchment that was only filled with four lines of, ‘I must not make a scene.’

“Very well,” said Umbridge, muttering to herself.  Rose watched her warily out of the corner of her eye.  “Very well… I am left with no alternative… This is more than a matter of school discipline… This is an issue of Ministry security… yes… yes…”

When the evil villain began muttering nonsense, it was time to take cover.  Rose could feel the pressure in the room changing.  Umbridge was staring at Rose, tapping her wand against her palm and breathing heavily.

Rose kept still, sketching out lines slowly with the blood quill.  Blood was beading up on the back of her hand, but she paid it no mind.

“You are forcing me, Miss Potter… I do not want to.  But sometimes circumstances justify the use… I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice…”

Rose finally raised her head, and let the quill fall.  Something… something very bad was going to happen here.

“The Cruciatus Curse should loosen your tongue.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and she could only stare in horror at the end of Umbridge’s wand that had raised and was pointed at her.  She scrambled back, falling out of the chair, but it was too late—

“ _Crucio!_ ”

The pain was terrible. Afterward she would be able to say that Umbridge’s curse was weaker than Voldemort’s, but only just, and at those levels of pain a matter of degrees didn’t count for much.

Rose screamed, fingers clutching at the fibers of the shaggy pink rug she’d fallen onto.  It went on and on, and when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer it stopped.

Rose’s limbs went limp, and she sobbed, looking up blankly at the ceiling.  She rolled her head, all that she was able to do at that moment, and looked at Umbridge.  She was standing there, clad in fuzzy pink, chest heaving, and an unmistakable look of pleasure in her face.  Rose gagged, and rolled onto her side.

“You’ve just broken the law,” said Rose.  “That’s a one way trip to Azkaban, that is.  The Minister won’t be happy with you.”

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Umbridge said, voice almost husky.  “He never knew that I’d Polyjuiced into you all summer long, but he was delighted that you’d been so discredited by the press.”

Rose blinked.  “That was you?  _You’re_ the imposter? Oh, _gross_.”

“Somebody had to act,” Umbridge breathed, her wand pointed at Rose’s lolled head.  “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow – discrediting you – but I was the one who actually _did_ something about it… And it worked quite well, didn’t it?  Girls’ reputations are so vulnerable… so easy to tarnish…”

“You turned me into the Slut Who Lived,” growled Rose.  She raised herself on shaking arms.  “I lost George because of what you did.  I could have lost him for good—“

“Such a stupid girl.  You played right into my hands with that interview you gave.  It made you look just like the liar you are.”

“I am not a liar!” she said, pulling herself to her feet using Umbridge’s desk.  “He’s back, and you’re going to be so sorry—“

Umbridge cast, “ _Crucio_!” but Rose dodged, throwing herself behind Umbridge’s desk.  Umbridge let out a scream, following her, but Rose scrambled, grabbing the nearest thing that felt weapon-like, and went at Umbridge with it.

Rose had learned through many duels with older students and the DA alike that casting spells was most difficult in close quarters, so she jumped at Umbridge, swinging the object she had grabbed, and brained Umbridge over the head with it.  Umbridge wobbled with a cry, and fell to the floor.  Rose grabbed Umbridge’s wand, and quickly cast a stunning spell.  Umbridge slumped against the desk in a limp pile of toady limbs and fuzzy pink chenille.

Rose looked down at her teacher, the shard of broken kitten plate in her hand, the scattered bits of china surrounding Umbridge, and the small trickle of blood dripping from Umbridge’s hair and down the side of her face.

“Shit!” she said, and leaned against the desk.  Her arms and legs felt shaky from the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.  Rose breathed deeply and thought quickly.  If she woke Umbridge up she would definitely be expelled.

“She just used an Unforgivable on me!” Rose said aloud.  Surely, this was – as McGonagall had mentioned long ago – worth going to war over.  The Cruciatus Curse was quite a huge thing compared to the bloody line of script on the back of Rose’s hand.  And the woman had nearly killed her with an overdose of Veritaserum.

This could not be allowed to go on.

Rose re-applied the stunning spell, wary of Umbridge waking up.  She fetched her own wand from Umbridge’s desk, and put Umbridge’s in her pocket, and set a binding spell on the toady woman as well.  She was bound and unconscious, but Rose still eyed her guardedly.

“Emmy?” said Rose, voice quiet.  There was a quiet pop in the silent room.

“Miss Rose?” said the elf, and then getting a look at Umbridge.  “Oh!  What has Miss Rose done?  She will be in such trouble!”

“It’s all right, Emmy,” said Rose.  “I need you to get me something from Madam Pomfrey’s office.  Can you do that for me?”  Emmy nodded.  “There’s a file folder, a thick one, and it has Professor Umbridge’s name on it.  Can you bring it here?”

The house elf brought the file to Rose just moments later, and Rose flipped through it.  Madam Pomfrey had made up a cover page of sorts, which listed each incident report in the file.  The accounts of blood quill detentions were listed by date.  There was the account of overdosing Rose with Veritaserum, and a few other nasty things that Rose hadn’t heard about until now.

Rose flicked through the photographs Madam Pomfrey had taken, and moved the most incriminating of the lot to the top of the file, and tucked the folder under her arm.

This would either work or it wouldn’t, but Rose wouldn’t be in any more trouble than she was already in if it all went wrong.

:: :: :: ::

Rose used the fire in Umbridge’s office to Floo to the Ministry. Armed with the folder filled with detailed descriptions and photos of the abuse Umbridge had perpetrated on the students of Hogwarts, as well as Umbridge’s wand which would reveal the casting of an Unforgivable, Rose limped up to the security desk in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and asked for Eric, the night watchman, to direct her to the Auror office.

“I need to report a crime,” she said. Rose looked frightful. Her cheeks felt tight where her tears had dried on them, her voice was hoarse from screaming, and she was trembling all over - a result of being under the Cruciatus Curse for a long while.

Eric recognized her immediately, and his eyes widened when he took in the state of her. He hurried out from behind the desk to offer his arm, and led her to the Auror Department himself.

Luckily, the first Auror who saw Rose was also one she knew. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a tall, imposing figure, but Rose knew that he liked ginger biscuits and winding up Sirius at Order meetings. He took her to his cubicle, set her down with a cup of tea, and she told him everything.

She didn’t get any further than telling him what had happened that evening, before he yelled out for a team to go to Hogwarts and arrest Dolores Umbridge on the spot.

It was the second best thing Rose had heard all day.

Rose didn’t think it would take so long to give a statement, but it was nearly eight o’clock in the evening before she was finished.  Kingsley had written down her account of what had happened that evening in Umbridge’s office in a nicely appointed interrogation room.  Rose hadn’t felt interrogated, because Kingsley was very easy to talk to, with his soothing voice and calm questions, but she was exhausted when they’d finished.

She sagged back in her chair, and Kingsley sent her a smile as he rolled up the parchments that he’d just filled out.  “You look tired,” he said.

“I finished OWL’s today,” she said.  “And then this happened.  I’m exhausted.”

“Why don’t you run down to the cafeteria and get yourself something to eat.  I’ve got some things to do, and I still need to ask you about the Veritaserum incident…”

Rose groaned.  “All right.  How do I get there?”

Kingsley gave her directions that she heard with half an ear, and a few coins since Rose didn’t have any money on her.  The Ministry’s cafeteria was off the Atrium.  Rose doubted that she could miss it.  Things like cafeterias were always well marked in places like this.

She wandered out of the Auror office, which was buzzing with the news of Umbridge’s arrest, and cries of outrage as they spoke of her crimes against the students of Hogwarts.  Rose smiled to herself, and found the bank of elevators they had taken to get up to the Auror office, and stopped short.

Rita Skeeter was standing by the elevators.  Her back was to Rose, as she was talking to an Auror.  Rose heard Rita say her name, and looked around wildly for an escape route.

A door marked with a plate that said, ‘Stairs’ was to her right, and Rose darted through it.  She was not in the mood to speak to Rita Skeeter.  Rose took the stairs down slowly, as she still felt a bit weak from the Cruciatus Curse, and didn’t want to take a tumble.  Her day had been rough enough.

Several flights of stairs later, Rose reached a door that marked the Atrium.  She peered through the door, and found the Atrium empty.  Excellent.

She looked around, trying to figure out where the cafeteria was, and seeing no signs, wandered around.  It clearly wasn’t here.  The security desk was unmanned – perhaps Eric had gone home? – and there was no one to ask for directions.

Maybe she had misunderstood Kingsley?

Rose went back to the staircase, and went down one more floor.  It made a logical sort of sense that the cafeteria would be below the Atrium.  Rose opened the door, cautiously peered out, and blinked in shock.

It was the long corridor from her dream!  It dead-ended in a dark door.

Rose knew that door like she knew the door to her own dormitory.  She knew that it would open to a circular room filled with doors and then…

She found herself walking down the long hallway, steps echoing eerily in the still silence.  She reached the door and put her hand out, and then froze at a noise.

It sounded like… a snore.  Rose remembered Mr. Weasley being under an invisibility cloak near this very door, and reached slowly towards the source of the noise, and her hand encountered silky fabric.  She slowly pulled, and Mundungus Fletcher’s slackened face appeared.

He was dead asleep, and smelled strongly of whiskey.  Rose rolled her eyes, and covered Dung again with the cloak.  She pushed open the door, sent a kick at Dung, and slipped through the door before he could wake and catch her.

She was in the circular room with all the doors, but then they did something they’d never done before.  The walls started to spin, and Rose shut her eyes, feeling like she was spinning as well, though she was standing absolutely still.  There was a grinding creak, and the doors stopped.  Rose opened her eyes, wary of all the identical doors – how would she get out? – which door was the right one?

All of a sudden, it seemed like an awful idea to be in here.  She wasn’t meant to be in this place.  Snape had been trying all year to keep her from dreaming of it.  Voldemort had sent her a false vision of it, trying to lure her here.  And now she was stuck.  Either she would be able to get out, or she wouldn’t.

“Let fate decide,” she said, and picked a door.  It if was the way out, then she would leave, but if it was not… well… she did really want to know what that stupid bauble was, and would be glad to find out, and not be bothered by the questions any longer.

Win, win.

She put her hand to the door, and it swung open easily.  It was neither the glittery room, nor the way out.  It was a dim room with a large glass tank filled with green water and white things floating in the liquid.  Rose didn’t like the look of it, and didn’t go any further than the threshold of the door, she went to shut it, but—“The room is going to spin again,” she said to herself.  She had to mark it somehow…  Rose remembered a spell that Hermione had taught her, which conjured up little sticky bookmarks to put in her textbooks when they had been in frantic OWL study mode.  She conjured up a bright blue one, and stuck it to the door.

She shut the door, and the room spun again.

Another room.  She liked this one even less than the last.  There was a tall archway set on a large platform in the middle of a sunken theatre.  A tattered curtain hung from the arch and swayed in a nonexistent breeze.  Rose marked it, and slammed the door shut.

The next door was locked.  Rose marked it.

But the next…  “This is it,” she said to herself, recognizing the bright glitter of the room immediately.  She marked the door with a yellow tab, and entered.  The noise she’d heard in her dream was actually the ticking of many, many clocks.  Tall grandfather ones, small carriage clocks, and tiny pocket watches sitting on bookshelves and tables.  Rose winced at the glare coming off all the ticking, shining clocks, and saw the door at the end of the room.

The ‘room with all the baubles’.  It was so close now.

Rose passed the clocks, not even a bit interested, and put her hand to the door at the end of the room.  It swung open, and Rose stepped through.

It was just as she had dreamed it.  High as a church, and full of towering shelves all filled with dusty, spun glass orbs.  They glimmered dully in the faint light.  It was cold in here, Rose could see her breath, and it smelled old and disused – like no one had entered this room in years.

Rose edged forward, peering down the shadowy aisles.  She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her own breathing, which was growing short with something like excitement.

“Row ninety-seven,” she said in a whisper.  She took the route she had taken in her dreams, but slowly.  Now that she was here she was terrified and curious in equal measure, and expected at any moment to be stopped by some Ministry employee, demanding to know what she was doing here.

But there was no one.

She found the correct aisle, and peered down it.  There was no one there.  It was just as empty as the other rows had been, and Rose took tentative steps.  It was here somewhere… in this aisle.  She looked at the little baubles, and noticed that they had names on them.

Maybe… maybe her name?

She found the spot, she was sure of it, where Voldemort had been torturing Sirius in the false vision, and looked around at the baubles, scanning for a name, maybe hers, to jump out at her… and there it was.

A dusty glass bauble with a little yellowed label below with her name and a date some sixteen years ago sat on the shelf.  Rose cocked her head to the side, and looked at the little ball wonderingly, because it wasn’t just her name on it.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And Rose Potter_

Rose stared at it, and reached out her hand.

Her breathing was harsh in the silence, and she dragged her hand back.  Maybe she shouldn’t… hadn’t there been something in one of her visions about someone being hurt trying to take one of these things?  She looked left down the aisle, and then right.  There was still no one here.

“It’s got my name on,” she said to herself, voice just a low nothing that even she could hardly hear.  She reached out her hand once more, and closed her fingers around the orb.  She had expected it to be cold, as cold as the room, but it wasn’t.  It was warm, like it had been lying in the sun.  Rose waited for something to happen – to fall down dead, or some such – but nothing did.  She lifted the ball from the shelf and pulled it close to look at it, blowing the dust off.

And then from right behind her, a drawling voice said, “Very good, Miss Potter.  Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.”

Rose didn’t turn slowly, she whirled, wand in hand and pointed it at the interloper.  Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father.

“Fate is such a bitch,” she muttered.  He raised an eyebrow at her, and waved his hand.

“The prophecy, Potter.  Hand it to me.”

His wand was pointed at her chest, and Rose eyed it.  One on one, the odds weren’t in her favor, but they weren’t entirely dire either.  She could probably take Lucius Malfoy.  Maybe.  If she got incredibly lucky in the next few moments.  Probably, she should get him talking, and then make her move… whatever that turned out to be.

“Prophecy?” she asked, taking several steps backwards.  “Oh, you mean this old thing?”

Why wasn’t he cursing her?  Why hadn’t he cursed her when her back was turned?

“To me,” he said again.

“What kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?” she said, flicking a glance at the bauble, which seemed so insignificant to her. 

“You jest,” he said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” said Rose.  “What does Voldemort want with this little thing?”

Lucius let out a huff of agitation.  Death Eaters always got so tetchy when Rose said his name.

“Don’t play games with me, Miss Potter.  Hand over the prophecy, and you can go on your way.  Unharmed.”

“I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Mr. Malfoy.  If you were you would have done it already.  Now, how about you tell me about this prophecy.”  She spun the glass ball carelessly on her fingers, and Lucius’s eyes went wide and panicked.

“Ooh,” she said.  “He must _really_ want it.”

He glared.  “Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?  I don’t believe it.”

“Dumbledore and I don’t have many heart to hearts,” said Rose.  “What’s this about my scar?”

He snorted.  “I can’t believe it.  Dumbledore never told you.  Well, this explains why you didn’t come earlier.  The Dark Lord wondered why you didn’t come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams.  He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…”

“Did he?  Why did he want me to hear it?  Why did he want _me_ to come and get it?”

“Why?” asked Lucius.  “Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Miss Potter, are those about whom the prophecy was made.”

“Ah.  So what’s so interesting about it?  I mean, I don’t even take divination, because it’s such a crap subject… Why is Voldemort be so interested?”

“The prophecy is about both of you.  Haven’t you ever wondered, Rose, why the Dark Lord tried to kill you when you were a baby?”

“He tried to kill me because of this?” she said, holding it up.  “He tried to kill me because of a _prophecy?_ ”  The orb was hardly bigger than a Snitch.  It seemed like such a little thing.  Hardly worth the fuss.  “Has he heard it?  Why didn’t he come get it himself?”

“Why should he get it himself?  When the Ministry is doing such a good job of ignoring his return?  Why should he reveal himself to the Aurors when they are wasting their time trying to catch Peter Pettigrew?”

It was just as she and Hermione had thought.  Rose nodded.  “And he’s got you doing his dirty work for him.”  She shook her head at him.  “God, Mr. Malfoy, he’s turned you into his little errand boy.”

Any amusement that lingered on his face was wiped away. 

“You have to see what he’s doing to you,” she said.  “The circles under your eyes! Even your hair is lank, and I swear you’ve got more wrinkles now than you had when I last saw you—“

“Shut your mouth,” he said sharply.

“I don’t even care about you,” she said.  “But what about Draco?  Do you really want your son, your _heir_ , to wind up in the service of Voldemort?  To bow and kneel? Aren’t Malfoys meant to be better than that?  You know what he’ll do to Draco, don’t you?  You’ve had it happen to you. Voldemort might even kill him.”

He advanced on her, and Rose stepped back.  “You do not know what you are speaking of, girl,” he snarled.

“Oh, but I do.”  She tapped her forehead with the hand holding the prophecy.  “I’ve got a nice little view into the Dark Lord’s mind after all.  If he wasn’t crazy before, he’s batshit insane now.  I mean, come on, Mr. Malfoy,” she laughed bitterly, “his main concern these days is killing a little girl.”  She shrugged her thin shoulders.  “And he can’t even manage to do that.”

Lucius let a breath out through his nose.  “Give me the prophecy,” he said again.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I won’t,” she said.  “In fact, it might be better for all concerned if I just—“ she let the orb slip a little in her fingers.

“No!” he cried, and reached for it.

Rose cast her Death Eater standby – boom goes the dynamite – and ran.

The roaring noise drowned her ears, and the shelves blasted outwards.  Dust and baubles flew through the air and impacted, sending up strange wisps – like ghosts.  She couldn’t hear them over the noise and the light, but could see their mouths moving. The tall shelves fell like dominoes.

Rose ran, hearing Lucius hurling curses of the verbal variety after her, and reached the door to the room with the clocks.  She tore through it, and out to the circular room.  She left the door open, and began throwing open the others, wildly trying to find the way out.

Three false alarms and then, “Yes!” she ran through it, hurtling down the long corridor, and heard Dung say, “Hey!” but did not stop.

To the staircase, and oh, up to the Atrium where surely she would be safe…

Up the stairs, panting for breath, and she flew out into the Atrium.  It was well lit, and the peacock blue ceiling was cheerful, and there were _people_ —

A figure in black swept in to block her path, and Rose stopped short, gasping.  A cold hand wrapped gently around her neck, tilting her chin up—

“Hello, Rose,” he said coolly.

Rose looked up into red slitted eyes, now recognizing the long, bone white fingers at her throat – not choking, just holding her in place.  “Hello, Tom,” she said faintly.

The people who had cluttered the Atrium were screaming, running – they’d noticed Lord Voldemort in their midst – but they were all running _away_ – leaving Rose to her fate.  The whole place was a cacophony of noise that echoed around the wide hall, feet pounding on marble, shrill screams, ‘ _It’s You-Know-Who!_ ’, ‘ _He’s back!  He’s here!_ ’ and ‘ _Oh, Merlin, save us!_ ’

Voldemort smiled terribly.  “Such silly sheep,” he said, eyes fixed with hers. He plucked her wand from her hand and tossed it away. Rose bit back a cry of dismay as it sailed through the air and fell with a plunk into the basin of the Fountain of Magical Brethren.  “I believe you have something I want, Rose.”

His wand flicked, and Rose looked to the side, too afraid to move her head out of his hand, though every instinct she had was screaming for it, and noticed that he’d put up some kind of barrier between them and the rest of the hall.  They were in the center of a column of light. The walls sparkled with magic, and enclosed them in a silent, impenetrable circle.

She was trapped.  She cut her eyes back to his, and nodded slowly.  “The prophecy,” she said, and her voice shook with fear.

His eyes flickered with malicious amusement.  “Give it to me, Rose.”

“It’s got both our names on,” she protested, and swallowed.  “I think we should both listen to it.”

They stared at each other, he very serious, and Rose’s heart beating like that of a terrified rabbit.  She could hear her own harsh breaths, and the pounding of her heart in her ears, and the pain in her scar because he was _so close_ …

Voldemort nodded.  Rose held out the orb in the palm of her hand, and they both looked at it – still dirty with dust and now Rose’s fingerprints, and with a flick of his long finger he sent it to the floor, where it shattered.

A ghostly shadow of a younger Professor Trelawney rose up from the shattered remains of the orb.  She spoke in a voice that was unlike her own, deep and alien, eyes large behind her glasses…

_‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal, but she will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…’_

He released his hold on her throat, and frowned mightily at the spot where Professor Trelawney had stood and faded away.  Rose rubbed where his fingers had touched her, and muttered, “Well, that was vague.”

That was what he’d been after? That was what she’d been obsessing about all year?  That was what got her parents killed?  That?

How utterly stupid.

Rose crossed her arms, and then jumped as a spell impacted on the outside of the enclosure spell in a burst of bright red light – the Aurors had arrived, and were trying to break through…

Unconcerned with this, Voldemort turned to her, looking murderous.  “What power could you possibly have that I do not understand?  I, who have traveled the earth and discovered things that you could never even dream of!  You are nothing compared to me!”

Rose felt her whole body tighten up in indignation, terror taking a backseat.  She wasn’t _nothing_.  And she could think of quite a few things that she knew that Voldemort would never understand, but couldn’t fathom how any of those things would help her to ‘vanquish’ him. Then the full meaning of the prophecy took hold, and she spoke the outrageous thought as it occurred to her.  “ _I’m_ the only one who can kill you?” she said shrilly.  “Me?  Only me?  _Me!_   That can’t be right.”

“I agree,” he said.  “You’ve no chance at all.”  Though he didn’t raise his wand to her.  He cast her a speculative look that she didn’t like.  Probably thinking of when he had attempted to kill her as a baby, and it had gone so wrong for him.

“I could kill you right now,” he said thoughtfully, and waved his arm to indicate the useless Aurors beyond the bubble.  “I could kill you, and no one could do a thing to stop me.”

Rose held herself very tightly, trying to shrink into a smaller target.  There was no escape here.  He had her held fast, and could very well do whatever he liked to her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

“So ineffectual, aren’t they, Rose?” he said, and she could tell that he’d changed the enclosure spell somehow, and everyone in the Atrium could now hear his voice.  They all froze, and Kingsley’s eyes caught hers. He looked horrified.  “I could kill you right now, and none of them could do anything but watch as you died.”

He grabbed her, and she gasped in fright. He put his wand to her throat, and her back to his chest.  Rose could see the crowd, they were rapt and terrified, and unable to do anything…

“Your Girl Who Lived,” he said to the crowd.  “Your shining little heroine — and you were unable to protect her.  Not even in the very offices of the Ministry of Magic.  You can’t even protect her from a little bit of pain— _Crucio!"_

Rose screamed, and fell to the floor thrashing and writhing.  Oh, God, it was so much worse than Umbridge’s curse.  So much worse than it had been that night in the graveyard when Voldemort was newly re-born, and she realized now, weak, because _this_ —she screamed and screamed, sure that any moment her mind would snap, and she would be sharing a hospital ward with Neville’s parents… wishing that she could pull away from the pain, oh, where was the blessed blackness…

And then it stopped.  Rose choked and sobbed on the floor, whole body trembling from the aftershocks.

“Look, Rose,” Voldemort said with pleasure, “the cavalry has arrived.”  He nudged her with his foot, and she rolled over.

“Dumbledore,” she breathed.  And not only him, the Order as well – Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley…  She shut her eyes.

Voldemort laughed.  “Let’s see what they can do to help you, Rose.  Will they do better than the Aurors, I wonder?  We know now that no one here can kill me – least of all you, you trembling wretch.”

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

“What was that, dear?” he said, and pulled her up by her hair.  Rose gave a cry, and attempted to pull her legs under her.  She was on her feet, leaning heavily on Voldemort to stay that way, and could feel the point of his wand digging into her temple.

“Let her go, Tom,” Rose heard Dumbledore say.  She opened her eyes, and locked on Sirius who was struggling to get to her from the tight grip of Remus’s arms.  She gave a little sob.

“I don’t think I will,” said Voldemort.  “Rose and I have been having quite a nice time in here.  Did you know, Dumbledore, that only little Rose here—“ he shook her head, hand fisted in her hair, “—has the power to vanquish me?  I find this endlessly amusing.  She looks so heroic at the moment, doesn’t she?”  Rose’s head lolled when his grip on her hair slackened, and dropped against his shoulder.  “Very heroic.  I’m trembling.  Really.”

“You’re surrounded, Tom,” Dumbledore said.  “The Order, the Aurors, you’ll never get away.  Give up now.”

Voldemort laughed, and Rose blinked in dazed agreement.  She rather felt that Voldemort would be able to pull a Houdini quite easily.

“Perhaps I’ll just take little Rose with me.  Keep her as a toy.  She’s quite entertaining.”

“No!” roared Sirius, throwing Remus off, and rushing at the enclosure.

“It’s your godfather, Rose!  Say hello.  Be polite now.  You do have such terrible manners.”

“Sirius, get back!” she cried, voice hoarse from screaming. She didn’t know what would happen if he were to touch the enclosure. Someone outside sent a spell at Sirius, and he stopped before reaching the bubble.  Remus was able to drag him back.

“Only this tiny, useless girl between me and complete victory,” said Voldemort, sounding as though he was musing aloud.

“Not only Miss Potter,” said Dumbledore, approaching the enclosure.  “We all stand against you.”

“And none of you can stop me,” he replied.  “I’ve heard the prophecy now, Dumbledore.  All of it.  Now I know the truth.  Only Rose Potter can kill me.”  He laughed, a high horrible noise that made Rose shrink away from him.  “ _Either must die at the hand of the other_ ,” he quoted.

“There are worse things than death, Tom,” said Dumbledore.

“He’s got that right,” Rose muttered to herself.  “This sucks.”

“There is nothing worse than death,” said Voldemort, ignoring Rose completely, the point of his wand still at her head. 

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore.  “Indeed it is your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death that has always been your greatest weakness.”

Voldemort smiled.  “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”  And he vanished.

Without support now, Rose staggered and fell against the barrier.  She could hear screams outside, of shock maybe, but didn’t mind them.  Voldemort was gone, and she sagged in relief against the column, which was surprisingly solid for something that appeared to be made of light.  She dropped her head against the spell - it felt like cold plastic. How odd.

“Don’t move, Rose!” Dumbledore said to her, but she didn’t think she could in any case.  The only moving she would be doing was falling to the floor—

Then _painpainpain_ ripped through her skull and she screamed – her scar felt like it was bursting open – oh, God, how could anything be worse than the Cruciatus?  She was dead, or would be, she knew it – this was pain that she could not endure—

There was something inside her.  Like coils of a snake with red eyes wrapped around her very soul, and she could not tell what was herself and what was the other.  They were fused together, bound in pain, and then…

The screaming stopped abruptly, and Rose felt her body, which had somehow stayed upright from when she had propped herself against the barrier, turn sideways to look coyly out at the crowd.

It was odd.  The thing – Voldemort – was using her body.

“Kill me now, Dumbledore,” she said, looking at the headmaster through lowered eyelashes.  “If death is nothing, kill the girl…”

_Oh, Christ_ , Rose thought, pleading.  _Let him do it.  Let him kill me.  Death cannot be worse than this…_

Rose realized her mouth was speaking those words as well as Voldemort’s.  “Please,” she begged, “Please—“

He took hold of her once more, drawing his wand out of thin air, and putting it to her temple.  “Or maybe the old man can’t,” he mused with her voice.  “ _Either must die at the hand of the other_ … Do you think this counts, Rose?  Shall we give it a try?”

Rose whined in pain, sobbing, and hoped it would end.  “Oh, please – what’s, what’s—“

She couldn’t remember the words to the Killing Curse.

There was a bang; fists on the enclosure and Rose’s eyes flew open.  Sirius was right there in front of her, pounding desperately against the barrier. 

“Rosie, honey, put the wand down,” he begged.

Rose let out a wail.  Oh, god, it _hurthurthurt_.

“Rose!  Rose, no honey, no!” He was crying. She pressed her palm against the barrier. “Sirius.”

It didn’t matter that Rose couldn’t remember the words. Lord Voldemort knew them perfectly well. He took her voice again, and with the wand tip pressed to her temple said, “ _Avada Kedavra._ ”

The world went dark.

:: :: :: ::


	15. Year Five, Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It has been eons since I posted. I am SO sorry. The guilt I felt over this was crippling. I hope this chapter makes up for that monster cliffhanger. Thank you so much to everyone who left comments, kudos, favs, alerts. I am overwhelmed and delighted by the sheer number of you. Enjoy! xoxo
> 
> More story notes at my [tumblr](http://astridfire.tumblr.com), if you are interested.

:: :: :: ::

Rose became aware that something wasn’t quite right in stages. Her eyes were closed and she was lying on something hard. There was something that she ought to be worried about, but she brushed that thought aside. She opened her eyes and realized that she was outdoors, but it didn’t look quite right.

The sun (was it the sun?) shone brightly overhead. The sky looked like someone had pulled it from a painting. The light angled down in perfect rays through wispy clouds. The rays sparkled like the sky was swirling with fine golden glitter. Unsettled and charmed in equal measure, Rose turned on the surface she was lying on and discovered it was a park bench. She swung her legs to sit upright and took in her surroundings.

She was in a park. It looked like the gated park in front of the house on Royal Crescent, where she and Grim had spent many hours playing, but while it was similar, she couldn’t hear the rumble of traffic or voices of pedestrians on the street outside the walls and high hedges.

Rose looked down at herself and noticed she was wearing her favorite outfit, and that there was suddenly a cup of coffee from her favorite coffee shop sitting on the bench beside her. She was absolutely certain it hadn’t been there before, but she gave a mental shrug and decided to drink it. 

She gazed about the park, taking in all the perfect details, and thought being dead wasn’t so bad. A little boring, maybe, but she could deal with it.

As if the thought of boredom had conjured up some intrigue, a noise like a crying baby came from underneath the bush nearest the bench Rose was sitting on. Rose squinted at the bush and caught a glimpse of something through the leaves - it was red and slimy, and gave off the distinct impression that it was _icky_.

She stood, brushing non-existent dirt off the back of her skirt, with the intention of finding another bench to sit around and be dead on. A bench that was _far_ away from the icky baby thing.

“Hello.”

Rose spun on the spot, giving the crying bundle of ick a suspicious look. If that thing could _talk_ — But it wasn’t the thing. There was someone else in the park. A dead someone. A _familiar_ dead someone. The coffee cup slipped from Rose’s fingers.

The boy smiled, a thin lipped twist at the corners of his mouth, and sauntered closer. He appeared to be slightly older than Rose, but only by a few years. He was tall and slim, with dark hair and grey eyes, and had an air of superiority that Rose had seen in photographs and paintings, and in other members of the Black family.

“Well met, Rose Potter,” he said, tipping his head like he was doffing his hat. “Do you recognize me?”

“Regulus,” she said. She had seen his face in photographs and painted portraits at Grimmauld Place, rescued from the trash and then traded with Kreacher in exchange for household chores. He looked quite a bit like Sirius. He had the same coloring, chin and nose, but his air was completely different. Where Sirius was warm, Regulus was cold. 

“Well done,” Regulus said. “Welcome to the afterlife. It seems I’m your welcoming party.”

“Why you?” she asked. “Why aren’t my parents here?”

“There’s been a hiccup,” he said dryly, and took a seat on the bench she had recently vacated. He crossed one leg over the other and sat back to give her a lazy once over. Rose held off an uncomfortable twitch, and he rolled his eyes as though he’d seen it regardless.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“You’ll not be staying long,” he replied. “You’re meant to have a choice, but I’m not keen on letting you make it.” His eyes were flat and hard.

“A choice about what?”

“Never mind that.” He leaned off the bench to peer through the leaves of the bush at the icky baby thing. It let out a cry, and Regulus’s lip curled. “Disgusting,” he murmured. He tore his eyes away and pinned Rose with them again.

“I’m here to tell you everything I know about horcruxes,” Regulus said. “I’m going to tell you how to kill the Dark Lord.”

:: :: :: ::

Regulus led her away from the thing in the bush, and explained exactly how and why he died.

Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, and he had had a change of heart, just as Sirius had told her. But his change of heart had to do with finding out that Voldemort was using horcruxes to keep himself immortal, and for Regulus this was a step too far. He had chosen instead to destroy the horcrux Voldemort had entrusted him with, and had in the process, gotten himself killed. 

He told her about horcruxes, what they are and how they are made. He told her that Voldemort has more than one. He told her that the others were either hidden by the Dark Lord himself, or left in the care of his most trusted Death Eaters. He told her that there was some good news - she had already destroyed one.

“That diary your Weasley girl was possessed by. That was a horcrux. An ingeniously nasty one, too.”

He sounded almost admiring. 

“And another one destroyed today,” he said. “And a prophecy fulfilled. Big day for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Rose demanded.

Regulus explained how Voldemort attempted to use her death as an infant to create another horcrux, because he had identified Rose as the child the prophecy spoke of, and apparently the bastard just liked the idea of it. Important deaths made stronger horcruxes, apparently. But the spell backfired, and the split off bit of soul had to go somewhere, and—

“You mean _that_ —“ Rose said, voice shrill, as she gestured at the disgusting baby thing in the bushes, “that’s a part of Voldemort’s soul? And it was _in_ me?”

Regulus smirked, and nodded.

Rose gagged. 

“You won’t have the mental connection with him any longer, which is a loss tactically, and you’ve also lost your last chance at cheating death again, so I wouldn’t stand in the way of any green spells if I were you. Next time you die it’s for good. On the other hand, you are one step closer to making the Dark Lord mortal.”

“And when all of the horcruxes are destroyed?”

“Then he can be killed,” Regulus said, nodding. “And he will stay dead.”

Rose shivered.

He told her about Kreacher, about how the elf had assisted him in retrieving a horcrux from one of Voldemort’s hiding places, and that the horcrux - a locket - was at the headquarter’s of the Order of the Phoenix in Kreacher’s possession. “You gave it to him,” Regulus said wryly. “Saved it from the bin, and used it to bribe a house elf in return for a clean bathroom.”

“Worth it,” Rose quipped.

Regulus shook his head at her. “There’s a book hidden in my bedroom at home, about horcruxes,” he said, changing the subject. “I found it during my research after I realized what the Dark Lord was doing. It has information about how to destroy them, as well as everything I’ve told you. You’ll need it.” He told her where the hidden panel was, and how to access it.

“How many more horcruxes do you think he has?” Rose asked.

“Several,” Regulus said dryly. “You’ll have to do some sleuthing of your own.”

“I need to talk to Dumbledore,” she said, thinking aloud. 

“That would probably be for the best,” he said. “You must act very quickly. If the Dark Lord discovers that his horcruxes are being destroyed he could simply make more… and then he will never be killed.”

Rose nodded, mind whirring with all that she had learned here and all that she needed to do. 

“You’re going to the instrument of my revenge, Rose.” He was almost smiling.

“ _Your_ revenge?” she asked, eyebrows climbing.

“We’re family now, are we not?” he said with a smirk. “And Blacks avenge their own.”

“ _Sirius_ is family,” she said. “Not you. I’m going to do this, I’m going to go after his horcruxes and I’m going to destroy him, but I’m not doing it for _you_. I don’t even think I like you.”

Regulus clutched a hand to his chest as though she had delivered a mortal blow. “Oh my,” he said dryly, “however shall I go on?”

Rose rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to give you some advice before you go,” he said. “You’ll be grateful for it later.”

“Doubtful,” she muttered.

“First of all, drop your Hufflepuff. He’s worthless to you, and will follow your cause regardless of your relationship. My cousin, on the other hand, would be a useful ally, and it wouldn’t take much for you to have him bent entirely to your will.”

Rose stared at him. Who _spoke_ like this? Allies, and causes, and bending people to their will? _Psychopaths_ , that’s who. The whole Black family was full of crazy people. Not even Sirius had come out unscathed.

“Wait, are you talking about Draco?” she asked, incredulousness in her voice.

“Yes. He would make an adequate spy, living in the belly of the beast as he is, but his loyalties could belong utterly to you. A simple seduction, and he would even turn on his father. You could use your own eyes on the inside - Dumbledore’s spy is unreliable and precariously placed. He’ll most likely be dead soon, so you could use a replacement.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“I’m honest,” Regulus corrected. “Draco responds to power, and if he believes that you will be the victor in the end he would gladly pledge himself to you. The promise of power, coupled with the promise of sex—“ Rose made an indignant noise, and Regulus rolled his eyes. “He’s a fifteen year old boy. If there are thoughts in his head that don’t revolve around getting between your thighs they are utterly accidental.”

Rose hit him.

Regulus caught her wrist on the backswing and twisted it sharply. She gasped in pain. His face was twisted and ugly with anger.

“You would be a fool not to use this to your advantage,” he said. “You don’t have much to recommend you otherwise.”

It was nothing she hadn’t thought herself, but coming from Regulus it was galling. The idea of Rose being the prophesied heroine of this tale was laughable at best, and the world was likely doomed, but she had a hell of a lot more in her favor than just her looks and her _vagina_.

“I’m glad you’re dead,” she hissed.

He made a face and released her wrist. She tried to rub the pain away. What the hell? She was dead. She shouldn’t be able to feel pain here, right?

“Secondly,” he snarled, “you’ll want to keep that mudblood friend of yours close. She’s quite intelligent, and frankly you could use the help in that area—“

Rose gaped in outrage. She didn’t even know where to _start_. 

“And do come up with an actual plan before you hare off to save the world. Gryffindors can be so short sighted, and I would find it vexing if you died again without fulfilling your role—“

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to _vex_ you, you enormous arse—“

“And tell my _dear_ brother,” he said with a derisive twist to his mouth, “that his pining has grown pathetic. The love of his life is slipping through his paws, and if he doesn’t act quickly he’ll be lost.”

Rose blinked in shock. “Sirius is in love? Who are you—“

“Farewell, Rose Potter,” Regulus said. “Don’t disappoint me.” And with those parting words, he shoved her backwards, she stumbled, and—

:: :: :: ::

Rose blinked up at the sky - no, wait, the ceiling. Peacock blue, and familiar. She was surrounded on all sides by a sparkling wall of light. It was very quiet wherever she was, hushed like a church. Like a funeral. There was only the muffled sound of someone crying. She rolled her head to the side and found the source of the noise. Two men were sitting very near the barrier, holding each other, one had his face turned down, the other with his buried in the other man’s collar. He was shaking. It was Sirius and Remus, Rose realized. Why was Sirius crying? What had happened? Had something happened to her?

She took stock. She didn’t feel hurt, but she was lying on the floor, and there was something uncomfortable under her back. Bony, like—

Realization came all at once, and with it a rush of adrenaline, and she rolled to her feet. 

She had been lying on Voldemort’s arm. His wand hand. He was still dazed, blinking his vile red eyes up at the ceiling, and Rose panicked. She brought her foot down hard on his wrist, and he let out a grunt of pain, his fingers went lax and his wand rolled to the floor. Rose quickly scooped his wand up, and pointed it at him. 

“ _Stupefy_ , _stupefy_ , _stupefy!_ ” she cried.

The spells hit him, one after the other, but they had no effect other than to bring him to full consciousness. His eyes narrowed, and Rose fought the instinct to take a few steps back.

“Miss Potter,” he said darkly. “You are a surprising creature, aren’t you?”

Looking down at the monster who killed her parents, who would kill Sirius and Remus and everyone else she loved given half a chance, her fear withered and left her full of fury. It was a tremor in her fingers and ice in her gut, and her blood felt like it was on fire.

“You bet I am,” she snapped, gold sparks shooting from the tip of the wand. The wand flared with golden light, and it took her rage and twisted it into a spell. 

It looked like golden fire, and it struck his chest where his heart would be if he had one. He hissed as though he’d been shot. One bony hand covered the injury instinctively, and his hand came away red with blood. He blinked with wide eyes at the sight, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Rose stared as she took in the damage: the bright red blood on his hand, the open wound, a white arc of bone, and his black heart pulsing in his chest. The organ gleamed in the light, thumping madly, half hidden behind a rib bone. It was black, and slicked shiny with blood. There was so much blood, and it was seeping into his robes, and sticking them to his chest.

His body heaved with a shocked inhale. He looked up at Rose, standing over his prone and injured form, and his eyes thinned. He hissed with rage, and reared up to snatch the wand from her hand. Rose gasped and stumbled back, and she let go of the wand, nearly tossed it to him in her eagerness to get away. A flick of his wrist and he was gone. 

Rose flailed her arms wildly, and spun on the spot. When she saw no sign of Voldemort she bent double, and crossed her arms over her chest, relief making her weak. She sucked air into her lungs as though she’d been drowning.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” she said to the marble floor tiles. “Thank God.”

“Rosie—“

She whipped her head up, catching sight of Sirius and Remus on the other side of the barrier, hands pressed to the spell like they were trying to reach out for her. She stumbled over to them, putting her hands to the barrier too, and when she found it solid she beat her palms on it. It held fast. Sirius looked like he was in physical pain, like he just _could not_ take one more moment of not being able to protect her, and she snarled in frustration, and kicked the sparkling wall of the column. The spell collapsed, falling like it had been made of water all this time, splashing magic everywhere.

Instantly there were arms around her, holding her tight. 

“Rose, Rose, oh, Merlin,” Sirius said, clutching her to him and getting his fingers tangled up in her hair. “You were _dead_. I thought we’d lost you.”

Rose closed her eyes and hugged him back. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, letting it calm her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

She looked over Sirius’s shoulder at Remus. She held out a hand to draw him in, not sure Sirius was going to let her go anytime soon, but wanting a hug from Remus all the same. He put his forehead to hers, and then kissed it.

They stood like that until Rose felt calm, until Sirius’s grip loosened, until Remus looked less wolf-y.

“What happened after he cursed me?” Rose asked. “Where did he come from?”

“When you fell he appeared,” Remus said, “Like he had disillusioned himself. We were sure that both of you were dead.”

“How long was I out?” Rose asked.

“Just for a minute or two,” Remus said.

“Felt like years,” Sirius said, his voice rough. He shuddered, and squeezed her tightly.

“It was longer there,” Rose said. “We were talking for awhile.”

“Talking to who, Rose?” Remus asked. “What happened to you?”

“It was Regulus,” she said, and a wave of vertigo hit her. “Your brother was a _prick_ ,” she told Sirius, and leaned heavily against his chest. “I don’t feel very well.” She shut her eyes as the events of the day caught up with her: exams, being tortured, dying, meeting Regulus Black, and coming back from the dead. It had been a _long_ damn day, even by her standards.

“Rose?” Sirius asked, sounding alarmed.

“I just need to lie down,” she said, words slurring together, and trying to reassure him with badly aimed hand pats. There were two worried, much loved faces looking down at her. She was safe. The world went black.

:: :: :: ::

Rose woke up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.  Sirius was asleep in a chair beside her bed.  He looked haggard.  Through the window over her hospital bed, she could tell that it was morning – the question was, which morning?  How long had she been asleep?

Madam Pomfrey had done something to cure her, as she wasn’t feeling the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, the mind-splitting pain of being possessed, or of being temporarily dead.

“Sirius!” she said in a loud whisper, not wanting to startle him too badly.  “Sirius!”

He gave a grunt, and then his eyes popped open.  His sleep clouded gaze drifted over her, and then consciousness set in. 

“Rose!” He dived for her, wrapping her up in a hug.  “You’re awake!”

She hugged him back, smiling.  “How long have I been here?”

Sirius rubbed his eyes, and looked at his watch.  “Oh, about ten hours.  You’ve been asleep since it all happened…  How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.  What happened?”

Sirius raked a hand through his hair.  “You passed out, and I wanted to take you to St. Mungo’s, but Dumbledore thought you should come here instead.  I’ve been with you all night, so I don’t know what—“

Remus came into the room, holding a cardboard tray with three cups of coffee.  He’d gone to the Muggle world to get coffee, though Remus couldn’t stand the stuff.  He smiled when he saw Rose and Sirius.  “How are you feeling, Rose?” he asked, setting down the tray.

“Good enough for coffee,” she said.  “What did you get me?”

“Something mocha with whipped cream,” he said, handing her the paper cup.

“It’s appalling what you do to coffee,” said Sirius, a common complaint that only made Rose grin.

“Here you are,” said Remus, handing Sirius a cup.  “Black for Black.”

“Har har.”

“And tea for me,” said Remus.

“He’s such a proper Englishman, isn’t he, Rosie?”

“Indubitably.”

Despite the fact that this breakfast was taking place in the hospital wing, and the night before had been a horror, it felt much like any old breakfast at their house on Royal Crescent.  Rose dropped her head onto Sirius’s shoulder, and he tugged her hair.

“Don’t go scaring us like that again, okay, kiddo?” said Sirius.

Rose nodded, blinking away the burn of tears.  “I’m not eager for a repeat performance.”

“Kingsley told us all about your citizen’s arrest,” said Remus, hiding a smirk behind his cup.  Sirius barked out a laugh, and Rose blushed a bit, feigning interest in her coffee.

“Yeah, well…”

“He thinks you might have what it takes to become an Auror.  Very good at following proper procedures, he said.”

Rose smiled at them, loving them so much it hurt. Later she would tell them about being dead. She would tell them about meeting Regulus, about prophecies and horcruxes, about everything, but for now she just wanted to enjoy being with her family.

“We’ll see,” she said.  “I might hold out for Prince William.  I think I’d make a great princess, don’t you?”

:: :: :: ::

Fresh from the hospital wing, Rose sat alone in Dumbledore's office waiting for the headmaster to arrive.  She was certain she was in for a royal telling off.  Dumbledore's phoenix gave a little croon, and Rose gave Fawkes a pat.

Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep her in the hospital wing for another night just to be certain that she wouldn’t have any complications after suffering from two Cruciatus Curses, being possessed by Voldemort, and oh, being _dead_ for two minutes.  Rose felt perfectly fine though.  Even her scar, which had been aching all year, was nothing more than an unsightly blemish on her forehead, and she hadn’t had any strange dreams since.

Hermione and Ginny had come by the hospital wing to see how she was doing, and to hear the full story of why on earth Rose had been at the Ministry, and then what happened with Umbridge, Lucius Malfoy, and Voldemort.

Rose thought Cedric had been by too, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let him in.  This was probably Sirius’s fault, as he’d looked very smug.

On Dumbledore's desk was the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, headline three inches high, saying the wizarding world had woken up to the fact that Lord Voldemort was back.  Rose skimmed the story, and noted that her name cropped up almost as often as Voldemort's many monikers. They were calling her, ‘ _The Girl who Lived Twice_ ,’ and Rita Skeeter wanted to know, ‘ _Is Rose Potter Immortal?_ ’

Below the fold was a smaller headline that made Rose wince.  ‘ _Lucius_ _Malfoy Arrested!_ ’  If Draco didn't already hate her, this would surely cement it.

Aside from the fear-mongering, the Daily Prophet had changed its position on The Slut Who Lived to Party, and was now calling Rose a, _'lone voice of truth,’_ forced to bear, ' _slander and ridicule.’_

Rose tossed the paper back onto the desk in disgust, and wondered when Dumbledore would show.  Certainly, he was busy with Order related issues, and likely had the press beating down his door, but Rose had things to do as well.

She only had two more days to spend in the company of Cedric Diggory before summer holiday, and she didn't want to waste one moment.  She knew that these next two days were likely to be her last that she could freely act like an idiotic teenager, and she was going to take full advantage.

The door to the office opened, and Rose stood.  "Hello, Professor.”

"Miss Potter," he said, dropping a handful of letters onto his desk.  He sat and folded his hands.  "We have much to discuss.  Lemon drop?"

:: :: :: ::

A truly bewildering hour later, Rose shut herself up in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. No one else ever used it, and she could use a few minutes to herself. No matter what Dumbledore said, Rose didn’t think love was going to see her through. This alleged power of Rose’s that ‘the Dark Lord knew not’ seemed about as useful as the fact that Rose knew how to dance in three inch heels and Voldemort didn’t. Presumably.

She gave her mind a few moments to consider Voldemort in drag, before trying to force it back to the problem at hand.

“I’m doomed,” she muttered, because the image of Voldemort in a slinky black dress with matching strappy heels would not leave her brain, and because, yeah, she was probably doomed.

She wedged herself onto the sill of one of the narrow windows along the far wall, and wiped the fog away to look outside. The sky was overcast, though the temperature was warm. Students dotted the lawn, enjoying the end of exams. Some were kicking a muggle football around.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Draco Malfoy walked in. 

“Hi,” he said, when he caught sight of her in the window sill. 

“What are you doing here? It’s the girls bathroom.” She frowned. “How did you even find me?”

“I asked the house elves where you were,” he replied.

“Oh, house elves. Clever, that.”

“Yes,” he agreed. She wondered if he would come closer, but he stayed where he was, all the way across the room. Rose felt the distance between them like the tug of a rope, urging her to move closer. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. 

“My father was arrested. For trespassing.”

Rose swallowed and looked at her hands. It figured that he would blame her for that. 

“I heard.”

“And now he’s being held because they suspect he’s a Death Eater.” Draco shook his head and sounded disbelieving when he said, “My father is awaiting trial in Azkaban. My _dad_ is in _Azkaban_.” And his voice broke when he finished, “And yesterday, you died.”

She looked up. His expression was wretched. His eyes were rimmed red, purple bruises beneath them like he hadn’t slept, and he was as disheveled as Rose had ever seen him. His shirt was wrinkled, tie askew, as if he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. She had never seen Draco look so much less than perfect.

“I didn’t stay that way,” she said, trying for light and falling far from the mark.

He didn’t laugh.

“I am sorry about your dad. I thought…” Well, she'd rather thought Lucius could have gotten away, but Mundungus had stunned him as he was chasing Rose out of the Department of Mysteries, and had left Lucius for the Aurors to find.

“Why are _you_ sorry?” he said loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s a Death Eater. He probably would have killed you!” He looked sick at the very thought.

Rose shook her head. “He wasn’t there to hurt me. He was just there to… fetch something.”

“To fetch what—“ Draco cut himself off with an angry noise. “Merlin, I don’t even want to know.”

Rose wasn’t sure she should tell him in any case. 

“Merlin, this has all gone so wrong.” He paced across the room and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “I had a plan, you know. For this,” he gestured between the two of them. “It got off track, a lot, but—“

“What are you talking about?”

Draco looked at her for a moment with dull eyes and sighed.

“Last summer, my father told me that any feelings I had for you had to disappear.”

Rose felt her heart crawl up her throat.

“He told me that I had to make it clear to everyone that my feelings for you were gone. I had to make everyone believe that I hated you, because if I didn’t the Dark Lord would find out about it, and my family would be in danger. Father was right, of course, but I thought I could find a way around it.

“I tried to talk to you over the summer. But I couldn’t send you a letter, because it could be intercepted. After the papers started reporting about you in the society pages, I went down to Knockturn Alley to try to arrange an ‘accidental’ meeting. It took three weekends before I ran into you - but I guess it wasn’t you I was talking to.” He laughed humorlessly. “I wanted us to plan it together - to have a very public falling out - even though, secretly we could be… well.”

Rose felt like she was going to be sick.

“But you - she - wouldn’t listen. Told me to go away, like I meant nothing to—“ He cut himself off, and there was a tick in his jaw. “Then we were back at school, and I was angry with you, and I decided that I would just go on and do it anyway. I had to.” He shook his head. “That first time, when I laughed along with Pansy and the others outside of potions class… It was awful. You looked for me in the crowd, like I’d come to your rescue, and… The look on your face… And I thought maybe it would be easier if I planned every word. Maybe if I scripted it, if I just said things that would make you angry instead of things that would hurt…” he shook his head, and grimaced. “But you always went off script.”

“Oh, god, Draco.”

“You were pretty good at hurting me, too,” he said. “Then I got angry, and I said all the horrible things I had decided I wouldn’t say.”

She dropped her head, hid her face behind the curtain of her hair, and screwed her eyes shut. Tears welled, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“Then it was real. I went too far. There was Weasley and Diggory, and I feel like I’m just _choking_ on—“ he cut himself off with a frustrated noise, and she could tell he was falling to pieces as he went on. “Then yesterday… you died. You were dead, and you died hating me and thinking that I hated you.” He sniffed. “That’s just… not acceptable, because it’s… _so far_ from the truth.

“I’m so sorry, Rose.”

She covered her face with her hands, and nodded helplessly. She didn’t dare say anything out loud for fear that she would just start sobbing stupidly, and god only knew what she would say.

He shuffled closer and slowly, with careful hands, touched her wrists. He pulled her hands away from her face, and his breathing hitched when he saw her tear-streaked face. “Rose, please,” he begged. “Don’t cry.”

She immediately dropped from the window sill, threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. He held her just as fiercely.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” she managed, and swallowed the accompanying sob.

They stood like that, clinging to each other, for many long minutes. When Rose finally pulled away, he offered her his handkerchief. She wiped the tears from her face, but held onto the silk square. Someone had stitched his initials in the corner in shiny green thread. It was pretty, and stained black with her eye makeup. 

“What about Voldemort? What will you do?” Rose asked, her voice hollow. She felt she already knew the answer, and this conversation with Draco was just cruel, like tossing hope in her face only to snatch it away.

He was silent for a long moment, and said, “I don’t know.”

“Please don’t join him,” she said. Her face twisted up, and she was going to cry. She was going to completely lose it. She dropped her chin, and her hair fell to hide her misery.

He stroked her hair away from her face, and held her face in his hands. “I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he promised.

Rose shook her head. “That’s not good enough.”

“My family. They wouldn’t understand. I can’t betray my family, Rose,” he said. “I won’t.”

Rose sighed, because she got that. If their roles were reversed, and he was standing here asking her to betray Sirius, she would tell Draco to go fuck himself.

“Look,” he said, “it isn’t going to mean much anyway. He’s not going to want _me_ for anything. I’m only sixteen, for Merlin’s sake. What could he expect me to do? All I’ll have to do is get a stupid tattoo, and go to some of those dumb meetings. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

Rose gaped at him. “But it is a big deal! That ‘stupid tattoo’ is a mark that binds you to him forever, that he can use to control you! And he’s completely unstable! What if he decides to teach your father a lesson by torturing you in front of him?” Draco blanched. “That’s something he does just for fun, Draco! I can promise you his Cruciatus Curse is nothing to sneeze at.”

“All right,” he said. He rubbed her arms like she needed calming down. “Things to think about.”

Rose shot him a look full of venom. “I know what I’m talking about!”

“I know you do. You know what’s happening here better than anyone. But it might not even come to that point,” he said. “He might not even want me.”

“He’ll want you,” said Rose. Draco was strategically placed. He could be used to keep the Malfoys in line, and he was close to Rose. The only thing keeping him safe right now was that Voldemort didn’t know just how close he could get to her.

Rose twisted the handkerchief in her hands. She had only one card left to play, only one thing she could possibly say to make him reconsider, but it was a terrible, manipulative thing to say, and she feared it wasn’t true anyway.

“If you do this, Draco, if you take his Mark and swear yourself to him—“ she shuddered and looked down, so he wouldn’t see this for the lie it was, “if you do that we’re over. There will never be anything between us, because I couldn’t lo— I couldn’t love a person who’d—“

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” she said weakly.

Draco pulled her into his arms, and kissed her softly. Rose made a small, wounded noise, and pulled back to break the kiss, eyes wide.

“I love you, Rose,” Draco said. “I do. But I can’t promise you that.”

Any hope she’d had for getting through this conversation with a shred of dignity was lost. She sobbed once, and pushed him away. His face twisted in misery, and she wanted nothing so much as she wanted to throw herself back into his arms.

Rose took one last look at Draco, and she left.

:: :: :: ::

Rose locked herself in her dormitory, had a good long cry, took a long shower, where she cried some more, and then got dressed, and reminded herself that she had a _boyfriend_.

_Remember him?_ she asked herself. _Cedric Diggory, rather dishy, and so Hufflepuff you could choke on it._

Rose sprayed her wild hair with some Sleekeazy’s, and brushed it until it had magically straightened out. Then she carefully applied her makeup, and gave herself a critical once over in the mirror. She couldn’t muster up a smile, but she did find a neutral expression that she could hold to hide how she was feeling inside.

She dug out the Marauder’s Map, found Cedric’s dot, and went to find him.

He was with his friends in a courtyard where Hufflepuffs gathered, laughing at some joke. Rose paused in the doorway, and grimaced at the sight. He looked so happy. She was going to ruin that. She took a deep breath, and approached. One of his friends noticed her first and nudged Cedric, and wasn’t it _stupid_ that she didn’t even know the names of all his friends? She frowned to herself. 

Cedric stepped away from the circle, and caught her up under his arm. “Hey,” he said with a grin.

“Hi,” she said, attempting a smile. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said, still grinning down at her, still looking happy. He had no idea what she was about to do. He led her to a little alcove, and said, “No time for snogging, I’m afraid. I’ve got a meeting with Professor Sprout in fifteen minutes. She’s writing a recommendation for a Ministry internship for me, and she wants me to go over it before she owls it.”

“Oh,” Rose said. She didn’t want to break his heart just before he had an important meeting with his head of house. “Well, we can talk later.”

“Sure, Rose,” he said easily. “I’ve got a prefect’s meeting at seven, and rounds tonight, but maybe right after dinner? I’ll have about a half hour.”

Rose nodded and swallowed. Yeah, break up with the guy and then send him off to chair a prefect’s meeting. She couldn’t do that either. Not to Cedric.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said lamely.

Cedric smiled at her, and kissed her once, so sweetly. “Thanks for being so understanding,” he said, and Rose felt like dirt. Lower than dirt.

“Anytime,” she said weakly. 

“I know it’s been hard for us to get time alone together this year,” Cedric said. “What with Head duties and studying - me for NEWT’s and you for your OWL’s - your remedial lessons with Snape, and with the DA…”

“Yeah, I know,” Rose said. 

“But,” he said, grinning and taking both her hands in his. “This summer will be different.”

“This summer?” Rose frowned. “I won’t be able to meet you anywhere, Cedric. I probably won’t be allowed out of the house after what happened… I’d be shocked if Sirius doesn’t hire a bodyguard to follow me everywhere… even to the bathroom…”

Cedric snorted. “Well, you won’t have to leave home to see me,” he said with a smile. “I’m joining the Order.”

Rose blinked. “You’re joining the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning madly, “I’m going to fight the forces of evil, and to see my girlfriend everyday at headquarters.”

“Wow,” she said after a few moments gaping in dismay. “I— I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. That’s—“

“I know,” he said. “It’s perfect.” He kissed her, long and hard, and jerked suddenly away to check his wristwatch. “Aw hell, I’m going to be late if I don’t go now.”

Rose nodded, a pit was opening up in her gut, and—

“I’ll see you after dinner?” he asked, and when she jerked her head in an approximation of a nod, he chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and was gone.

Rose stood stock still for a moment, and regretted everything that had just gone wrong. She looked up at the sky, wondering why the universe did these things to her. When there was no reply, she went limp against the stone wall at her back, and let out a heartfelt groan.

That had not gone as planned.

:: :: :: ::


	16. Year Six, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year Six begins. All is not well.

:: :: :: ::

In the center of the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, the Dark Lord sat on a gilded chair upholstered in aquamarine velvet. The chair usually had a place in the East Parlor, where Draco's parents received visitors they disliked. The furniture in the East Parlor was outrageously expensive and very uncomfortable. Draco wondered if the house elves had chosen it arbitrarily, or if the Dark Lord ordered it to be brought, in which case Draco really ought to consider the fact that his father may have received the Dark Lord in the East Parlor, and to think carefully about what that meant.

On an eclectic selection of tables and sideboards pilfered from rooms all over the manor were the articles of the Dark Lord’s latest obsession. On one table an assortment of sparkling tiaras, laid out precisely and labeled with the award won and on what date. Another table was piled high with dresses made of satins, taffeta, and mountains of tulle, in an array of bright colors. Another table held some Muggle devices, and dozens of odd black boxes. On a small screen Draco watched a fuzzy picture of the girl he loved sing an odd Muggle song on a stage. Rose looked to be around seven years of age, though it was hard to tell with how made up she was. Her black hair was piled high on her head, fat curls held up with glittering combs. Her eyes were darkened and her lips had been painted pink. Her dress matched her lips, and sparkled like it was sewn with crystals. She finished the performance on a high note that made him wince, then beamed at the crowd, curtseyed sweetly, and bounced off stage. The screen cut to black and white fuzz.

The Dark Lord threw a small black box at the wall. “Useless,” he snarled. “Completely useless.”

He rubbed pensively at a spot on his chest. The very spot, Draco knew, where Rose’s mysterious golden curse had struck him. The wound had not healed despite being treated with Professor Snape’s many healing and rejuvenating potions. The Dark Lord reached for a rack of vials now, and selected a bright red potion - Pain Relieving Potion, Draco suspected - and after popping the cork, he drank it in one swallow.

The wall at Draco’s back was covered in notes the Dark Lord had scrawled in heavy black ink. It depicted an entire map of Rose Potter’s life, from birth to the present day. Every newspaper article that mentioned her. Every place she had ever been. Every witch or wizard she had ever had a conversation with. Complete dossiers on her closest friends and family members, a smiling photograph next to each one. Her OWL scores. (Draco didn’t even have his own OWL scores yet, how had the Dark Lord got his hands on Rose’s?) So much of that information had been given to the Dark Lord by Draco himself. Draco couldn’t stand to look at that wall, couldn’t stand to see the proof of how he had betrayed Rose. How he had broken his promise that he would never do anything to hurt her.

She would never forgive him for this.

Draco waited until the Dark Lord replaced the empty vial in the rack before he announced himself. Draco wondered why he did not use his wand to vanish it. But he had seen the Dark Lord’s wand respond strangely to spells. It was sluggish, and sparks fizzed from the tip at odd moments. It was as though the wand did not care for its owner any longer.

“My Lord?” he said hesitantly.

Those slitted red eyes turned on him. “Yes, Draco. Come here.”

Draco knelt before the Dark Lord on a Persian carpet, which clashed atrociously with the chair and the decor of the ballroom, and willed himself to stop thinking such stupid thoughts.

“I still have not found that which I seek, Draco.”

“I have told you everything I know, my Lord.” He had answered all of the Dark Lord’s questions. There were not many who knew Rose Potter as well as Draco did. Admiration and love had kept Draco’s eyes on her for years now. 

“It is not enough,” Voldemort said. “I have questioned you, Severus, even her dreadful Muggle relatives, but I have been unable to uncover this power that I _know not_.” He spoke of Rose’s mysterious power derisively, but one need only glance at their current surroundings to know that it had the Dark Lord worried. “I am missing something.”

Draco studied the pattern of the carpet by his knees. The Dark Lord was convinced that there was something special about Rose Potter, that she had tapped into some secret power, that she had access to some magic that Lord Voldemort had never heard of before. For Rose’s sake Draco hoped it was true, but he knew better. Rose was just a girl - if an uncommonly pretty, talented, and lucky one. Draco knew it was his love for her that made her special. It made her singular. Precious. Extraordinary.

And here he was, betraying her again. 

Draco didn’t know it, but his words and the love in his voice when he spoke her secrets to the Dark Lord made the dark wizard begin to quietly fear. What secrets did she keep? What power did she know?

“I require your assistance, Draco, and you are in a unique position to serve me.”

Draco hesitated. Merlin, what would he be asked to do _now_? He had not counted on this. He had thought he might have to join the Death Eaters to please his father, or to ease the burden on his mother, but he had never imagined that he would be so _involved_. He thought it would turn out to be not much more than an unpleasant afternoon being branded, and a few meetings behind a mask where he could grumble along with the rest about what a nuisance the Order was, how Dumbledore needed to die, etcetera. He could have handled that. He had no idea that the Dark Lord would demand his audience daily, that he would question Draco, that he would be called to speak every detail he knew of Rose Potter’s life: every spell she knew, every potion she’d learned to brew, details about her friends, her habits, her favorite things. He didn’t know that the Dark Lord would use him as a sounding board when contemplating methods of how to murder Rose.

Draco’s nightmares were so vivid now.

"Lucius failed me," the Dark Lord said, eyes narrowed. He had noticed Draco’s hesitation then. "And unfortunately, young Malfoy, it was hardly the first time. I will not tolerate the Malfoy family failing me again.”

Draco dug his nails into the palms of his hands, and stared hard at the carpet. He could not chance looking up at that horrible face, and definitely could not chance the Dark Lord reading his thoughts. His whole body was tensed tight as a wire, and he wanted more than anything to bolt. But he could not.

“Are you willing to preform this service for me?"

Draco swallowed, and nodded.

"Very good." The Dark Lord leaned forward in the chair, and brought his wand to the underside of Draco’s chin to lift his down-turned face. "You know what is at stake, should you fail?" Draco looked into those terrible eyes and thought of his mother. "Yes," the Dark Lord said. "And let us not forget your father. He is particularly vulnerable at the moment, isn't he Draco?"

Dad had spent only a month in Azkaban, but had come back starved, wrecked, and just a bit mad.

"So much is on the line," the Dark Lord breathed. He rose from his chair and walked to the wall. There was a long list there. Ideas the Dark Lord had dreamed up just for Rose. “Rose Potter is vulnerable. The Killing Curse cannot touch her, but there must be something that can. She has a weakness. I need only to discover it. ”

Draco shut his eyes to hide his horror. His nightmares were to be brought to life then.

"And you, Draco,” the Dark Lord said, “you are going to help me find it.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose spent her days at Grimmauld Place with Ginny and Hermione, who had come to stay for the summer. The Order believed Hermione would be safer there, since Snape had reported that Voldemort was looking very closely into Rose’s background, and would love nothing more than to get his hands on one of Rose’s closest friends. Rose hated that Hermione and Ginny were in such danger, but was glad that there was a good excuse for keeping both of them close all summer long. 

They spent much of their time digging through the darker volumes of the Black family library, searching for references to horcruxes. Rose occasionally abandoned the search and read a novel, and Ginny could usually be found writing letters to Dean Thomas, but Hermione rarely gave up on the search.

“It’s important,” Hermione said. “We should know everything we can.”

“I agree,” Rose said, “but if you keep this up you’re going to burn yourself out. Remember third year?” Rose still didn’t know exactly what had Hermione so stressed back in third year, but mention of it always made Hermione look rueful, and she usually consented to taking a break. 

“It’s just research, Rose,” Hermione assured her. “I like research.”

Rose worried sometimes about Hermione’s lack of a fun gene, and tried to find ways to entertain Hermione that didn’t involve dusty, evil books. She wasn’t having much luck, but then Ron turned up during the second week of hols, and Hermione found him _plenty_ entertaining. 

Ron had spent the first week of hols at Seamus Finnegan’s house in Ireland, but now he was back at Grimmauld Place, where he could be found moping around the kitchen, or shut up in his room.

“I wonder if he’s lonely,” said Hermione, when he left the girls sitting around the parlor after lunch. They heard the door to his bedroom shut, and Hermione wondered aloud, “What does he do in there all day?”

“He wanks,” Ginny said, not even looking up from the letter she was writing Dean Thomas at the dainty writing desk in the corner.

“Ginny!” Hermione protested.

“Well, it’s true,” Ginny said. “I have six brothers, Hermione. _Six_. What do you think they talk about? Girls, wanking, and Quidditch.”

“Surely they talk about other things, too,” Hermione said. She was blushing.

“Charlie talks about dragons sometimes,” Ginny allowed. “And the twins talk about pranks. Percy… well, he’s an anomaly. But other than that… no.”

Rose laughed, and noticed that Hermione was still blushing. Rose thought it was an odd attraction. She liked Ron, of course, but she had no idea what Hermione saw in him. He was handsome enough, Rose supposed, but Ron and Hermione didn’t have a single thing in common. What would they talk about? But at least Hermione’s crush wasn’t one sided. Rose had caught Ron gazing at Hermione several times, and no wonder, because Hermione had gotten very pretty when no one was looking.

Ron was certainly looking now.

“So Gin, if that’s all boys talk about, what exactly are you writing in that letter to Dean?” teased Rose.

Ginny blushed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said.

:: :: :: ::

Bill Weasley had come back to England to stay, much to the delight of the Weasley family. They were considerably less excited about Bill’s choice of fiancé, former Triwizard Champion, Fleur Delacour.

Rose hadn’t thought much about Fleur since fourth year, but they had made amends during the tournament victory party - tipsy and singing and hanging all over each other. 

Bill and Fleur came to stay at Grimmauld Place, taking a bedroom upstairs for themselves. (‘Living in sin,’ Molly called it, obviously upset.) Both of them worked for Gringotts now, but Fleur only worked part time at the bank, so she was often left to her own devices at Grimmauld Place. Given that the Weasleys were less than warm towards her, and she was lonely without Bill around, Fleur claimed Rose for her new best friend. 

Fleur insisted Rose help her plan the wedding. Well, Fleur called it helping, but Rose mostly acted as a sounding board to Fleur’s ideas, as any suggestions she offered were usually turned down flat. 

Ginny loathed Fleur, and her opinion of Fleur seemed to be shared by the rest of the Weasleys, but none were so obvious about their distaste as Mrs. Weasley. Fleur couldn’t complain to Bill about his family, so Rose found herself the only confidante of an angry French girl.

“I do not think much of ‘er either,” Fleur said. “But I can keep my opinions to myself. Bill doesn’t even notice, I do not think. But he loves his mother, and I cannot say anything.”

“She doesn’t like me much either,” Rose said. “She still thinks of me as the girl who broke her little boy’s heart.”

Fleur made a noise of disgust. “As if George is not able to take care of his own ‘eart, or know his own mind. It was not your fault what ‘appened wiz the papers, and she should know zat. Pig ‘eaded woman.”

“She’ll come around,” Rose said. “She’ll see how lovely you and Bill are—”

“Has she come around for you yet? I do not zee her cuddling you, or calling you ‘dear’, and you and George ‘ave been over for ages.”

“Well, no,” Rose admitted. “But it’s so obvious how much you and Bill love each other! Even Molly Weasley must see it.”

Fleur made an unhappy noise. She shook her hair, as if shaking off her bad mood, and changed the subject, “I was thinking of ‘aving gardenias in my bouquet. What do you think?”

:: :: :: ::

“She’s practically Rose’s age,” Sirius pointed out.

Remus made a face. “She’s twenty-three.”

“Seven years older than Rose, then,” Sirius said, voice odd. 

“Eight,” Rose corrected. “It’ll be seven when I turn sixteen next month.”

“She is young,” Remus said, pained. “Do you think I haven’t thought about the age difference? It’s… an issue.”

Rose looked between them, and picked at her chicken dumplings with her chop sticks. The tension in the room was so _odd_. She couldn’t figure it out. 

Yesterday, Tonks had gathered up her courage and had asked Remus Lupin out on a date. The news, just now delivered by Remus at dinner, had landed with a resounding thud.

“I like her,” Rose said. “She’s awesome.”

“She’s _awesome_ ,” Sirius repeated, giving Remus the stink eye.

“Are you going out with her, then?” Rose asked. 

“Well, I—“ Remus said. “I suppose that I— rather, that’s—“

“It’s just a date, Remus,” Rose said, teasing. “You don’t have to propose straight away.”

Sirius choked on his beer. “Who said anything about _proposing?_ ” he said, voice too loud.

Remus groaned, and hid his face behind a napkin. Rose tried not to laugh at them.

“Neither of you has ever been on a date,” Rose mused. “Not one single date in all the time I’ve known you. Or, wait! When I’m away at school do you—“

“No,” Sirius said. “I haven’t— he hasn’t—“

“You’re not holding back because of me, are you? Because I’m okay with it if you want to date, and bring women… people… home. For the evening—“

“Merlin’s sake, Rose,” Sirius said, pained. “Stop talking.”

“For sex,” she finished. “I just want to be clear.”

“Please don’t say sex,” Sirius begged. “Please never mention sex again. You’re not allowed to even _think_ about—“

“I’m almost sixteen, Sirius,” Rose reminded him. “Which is what now?” She put her hand to her ear, pretended to listen, and then nodded. “Oh yes, it’s the age of consent in Britain, and—“

“And you’re a witch, and the age of consent in _magical_ Britain is seventeen—“

“ _Now_ you want me to follow the rules?”

“You want a chastity charm for your birthday? Is that what you’re saying to me?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rose said.

“Watch me.”

“I think I have a book on contraceptive charms in the den,” Remus mused. “Sex education at Hogwarts is rather lacking…”

“Maybe we could ask Molly to give her The Talk,” Sirius said. Rose gasped in horror. 

“Oh, like Mrs. Weasley’s even _heard_ of a Contraceptive Charm,” she said. Molly Weasley had no business giving Rose The Talk - besides, Rose had heard it all second hand from Ginny already. She wouldn’t say no to Remus’s book, though it was probably one that Hermione had made them all read. Hermione was a big believer in sex education. 

“There’s also McGonagall,” Sirius said. Rose gave him a narrow eyed glare.

“If I need tips I’ll ask Fleur.” Fleur was queen of the over-share, and Rose knew far more about what went on in Fleur and Bill’s bedroom than she ought.

“ _Tips?_ ” Sirius sputtered. 

Rose decided it was probably time to stop torturing Sirius - for her own good. A change of subject was needed. “So Remus, did you say yes?”

“Hm?” Remus said. He blinked, as though he’d been mentally trying to figure out where he’d left that sex-ed book. “Oh, you mean to Dora. Yes. I said… yes.”

Sirius frowned.

“Where are you going to take her?” Rose asked.

“Dora has a restaurant picked out. She has a… a plan…”

Sirius was oddly silent, and Rose wondered why. He was missing out on some prime Remus-teasing here, and Sirius loved to tease Remus. Remus dished it right back, dry as a desert in his delivery. Rose kept mental tallies sometimes, and Remus nearly always came out ahead, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time with Tonks,” Rose said. “She’s great.”

“She is,” Remus agreed. “She’s—“ he looked at Sirius, “she’s very—“

“Great,” Rose finished slowly. 

Rose’s eyes bounced back and forth between them. The air was charged with _something_ , and they were staring at each other like…

“Well,” Rose said, rising from the table. Neither of them seemed to notice, they were so fixed on each other. “I’m going to Floo over to HQ. Cedric is coming over to see me before the Order meeting. So. I’m going to go. Away. To see my boyfriend. My _much_ older boyfriend. See if I can get him to break some laws with me.”

There was no reaction. This level of distraction was unprecedented.

She took her half-finished plate to the sink, and set it down with a clatter.

They startled at the noise, and looked up at her.

“What did you say, Rose?” Remus asked. Sirius frowned down at his plate, and poked at his rice.

“Nothing,” she said. They were so weird. Though it was hardly the first time Sirius and Remus were weird with each other, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. “I’ll see you both later.” 

Rose hopped upstairs to change her clothes and to freshen her make-up, and on the way out she overheard Remus and Sirius talking.

“—not like I have anything to offer her,” Remus was saying. 

“What are you talking about?” Sirius said. “You’re—“

“I’m penniless, jobless, and a _werewolf_ , and people at the Ministry who are in charge of granting her things like promotions and raises wouldn’t like her consorting with the likes of me—“

“Moony—“

“And I could hurt her—“

“You’ve become downright docile on full moons.”

“That’s only because I have the potion now—“

“Which you’ll continue to have—“

“Which is paid for by you, Sirius!”

Sirius groaned. “Fucks sake, it’s just money, Remus. It’s _our_ money.”

“It’s _your_ money.”

“It was my family’s money.”

Remus sighed, exasperated.

“It’s _ours_ ,” Sirius insisted. “We share this house, we share Rose, we share this— this second chance—“ Remus laid his hand on Sirius’s arm, and Sirius paused for a moment. “We share all the responsibilities, and I’ll admit you’re probably getting the short end of the stick there, but—“

“Sirius—“

“My point is that the money is just money, and if… if you need some of it to… show Tonks a good time or for anything else—“

“I’m trying to say that maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe I should cancel.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment.

“Don’t cancel because you don’t think you’re good enough for her, is all I’m saying. Because you are good enough. You’re better than good enough. Anyone would be lucky to nab you, because you’re Remus, and…”

“Thanks, Padfoot.”

Rose took a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle, and tossed it into the flames, before being whisked away to Grimmauld Place. Sirius, Rose thought, could be rather sweet when he wanted to be.

:: :: :: ::

Cedric joined the Order of the Phoenix as soon as the school term ended. His NEWT scores were in, O’s across the board, he was interning with the DMLE this summer, and he was signed up to begin Auror training in the fall. He made himself more of a catch with every passing day. Rose knew how lucky she was to have a boyfriend like Cedric. Handsome, intelligent, kind, brave. What more could a girl want?

No, really, Rose wondered. What more did she want? What was _wrong_ with her?

The break up that she had attempted at the end of the school year had never come to pass. At first there just hadn’t been a good time to attempt it again. Then she had trouble working up the courage to say the words. And what words, Rose wondered? What should she say? 

As the days went on, days where she had a clearer head, days where that incident in the bathroom with Draco seemed like temporary insanity, she thought she had been crazy to want to break up with Cedric. He’s was _perfect_. Right? On those days the guilt would eat her alive, and she threw herself into being the _best_ girlfriend Cedric Diggory would ever have.

This was a guilty day - a day that had started with a dream of gray eyes and pale skin, and that mouth on hers… She was going to be an _amazing_ girlfriend today.

That evening after the Order meeting broke up, Rose met Cedric in the upstairs parlor. It was less frequented than the downstairs parlor, and it had a larger settee.

For reasons.

Cedric greeted her with a kiss. He sat on the settee, and he looked so good sitting there, all broad shoulders and long legs. He settled back, and said, “Hmm, roomy,” and waggled his eyebrows. Rose laughed. He grinned and tugged her down to sit in his lap, and he proceeded to kiss her until she felt like jelly.

Before she knew it, she was lying on the settee with Cedric’s weight pressing her pleasantly into the cushions. One of his knees was between hers, and she had a leg hooked around his hip.

Everything the newspapers said about her was, god, so true, she thought as she arched into him, eager for more.

She moaned as his thigh pressed _just so_ against her, and she couldn’t help but rock into it. Cedric made a pained little noise, and Rose could feel the evidence of his arousal against her hip, and she imagined for a moment _doing something about it_. He could peel off her clothes and touch her, skin to skin, where she wanted his fingers so badly. He could kiss her breasts, and lower if he wanted. She thought about his tanned, lovely skin, stretched over all that lean muscle, and what his naked shoulders would look like over her. She thought about reaching for his cock and how it would feel in her hand. Hard and hot, and he could—

His tongue swept through her mouth, and then he was pulling away with a groan.

Rose tried to pull him back, to keep on going, they didn’t have to stop—

“We have to stop,” Cedric said, and stood up, disconnecting from her completely.

Rose huffed out an annoyed breath and flopped back on the settee. “I don’t want to stop,” she said. “I want to—“

“It’s not right,” he said, gesturing around at the room. “We can’t do it here. In your godfather’s house? In this creepy room? On a _couch?_ ”

Rose looked around and had to admit that the dusty, gothic antiques didn’t do much to set the mood, but, “I wasn’t paying the decor much attention.”

“It’s decorated with _bats_.” 

Rose took a closer look at the fabric of the settee, and what do you know? Bats. There was even a morbid little curio box with the skeleton of a bat inside hanging on the wall over Cedric’s shoulder.

Cedric sighed. “You deserve more than this, Rose. You deserve a _bed_ , for starters. Flowers and candles, and all those things.”

He was such a romantic, Cedric Diggory. Rose wished she appreciated it more.

“I don’t care about all that,” she said. 

He smiled, and bent over to give her a chaste kiss. Rose tried not to pout when he pulled away.

“We can wait until it’s right, can’t we?”

Rose looked into his earnest, gray not-quite-blue eyes and sighed. “Yes,” she said. “I can wait.”

He nudged her hip, and Rose obligingly sat upright on the settee. Cedric sat beside her and pulled her to sit snugly under his arm.

“How was your day?” Rose asked, taking Cedric’s hand in hers and playing with his fingers to give her something to do.

The irony was that a month ago Rose would have loved to have an evening alone with Cedric to talk about how their days had gone. Time alone when they were at Hogwarts was a precious commodity, given how busy they had both been during the school year. But all that time they _didn’t_ spend together had helped to hide all of the ways they didn’t quite fit, and all the secrets Rose was keeping.

“It was all right,” he said. “I helped my Mum in the garden.”

“Gnomes?” Rose guessed.

“Yes.”

“Do you swing them around and throw them like the Weasley boys do? They have contests for who can throw them the farthest.”

Cedric laughed. “No. Mum doesn’t like it, so we load them all up in the wagon, and set them loose in the woods.”

“Poor gnomes,” Rose said mournfully.

He poked her in the ribs until she laughed. “They get by,” he said. “How was your day?”

Rose had spent the day doing super secret research on horcruxes, and had read several books on dark curses that were sure to give her nightmares tonight. Remus had a date with Tonks, and Sirius was being weird about it.

“It was all right,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about any of it, so cast about for a subject change - hopefully one that would lead to more snogging. “So, what did you find out at the Order meeting?”

Cedric gave her a look. “You know I’m not supposed to say anything.”

“Oh, come on, Cedric,” she wheedled. “It’s _me_. I’m the last person who would go telling tales.”

He shook his head sternly, but smiled. His smile abruptly turned sly, and his fingers danced over her ribs to distract her. 

“Cedric!” she cried, laughing. “Stop!”

He tickled her until she squirmed, and ended up pinned under him again. He bent his head to kiss her, fingers leaving her ribs for more pleasurable locales, and Rose sighed into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Mission accomplished.

:: :: :: ::

Rose stumbled down to the kitchen on Sunday morning, and frowned.

The kitchen table was bare. Where were the fancy coffees and the pastries? Where was the sack of delicious Sunday morning goodness from the bakery Remus visited like clockwork every Sunday morning? She peered around the kitchen like she was missing something. Rose grumbled, her brain trying to operate through the haze of morning sleepiness.

And where was Remus? The newspaper wasn’t even on the table. Remus read the newspaper at the kitchen table with a cup of tea every morning, without fail.

She went to the front door and tugged it open to find the newspaper still lying on the doorstep. She fetched it up and carried it back to the kitchen. That was weird. It was like…

It was like Remus wasn’t even here. It was like he hadn’t even slept here last—

Rose tumbled out into the hall, and looked up to the second floor landing where Remus’s bedroom was. His door was open, like it always was in the mornings, and like it had been last night— when Remus had been on his date with Tonks, and hadn’t come home yet.

He must have stayed at Tonks’s flat last night.

Rose frowned to herself, and slowly went through the motions of making coffee. She had feelings about this, and they weren’t the ones she wanted to have.

She wanted to be happy for Remus, because she was always happy for her friends when they had dates that went well (and if he’d stayed over at Tonks’s flat, that meant things had went _very_ well, surely). She wanted to be happy that Remus was happy. She liked Tonks, and she would be happy to include Tonks in their family, because Tonks was already a friend, and Sirius’s cousin, and she acted older-sisterly towards Rose already.

But Rose hadn’t thought that… well… maybe it wouldn’t be inviting Tonks _in_ so much as it would be letting Remus _go_.

She frowned at the coffee pot, and didn’t like that idea at all.

She poured herself a cup of coffee when it finished percolating, and took it to the living room, where she found Sirius asleep in a chair. There was an empty whiskey tumbler perched precariously on the arm of the chair, and he was snoring lightly. It looked as though he had been waiting up for Remus last night - in the dark, Rose noted, as none of the lamps were lit - and had fallen asleep. 

Rose turned the telly on, clicking the volume button upwards until Sirius startled awake.

“What—“ he said, jerking awake. He looked around the room and winced at the light coming in the windows.

“Morning!” Rose chirped.

Sirius flinched. “You are a demon child,” he groaned. He rubbed his eyes. “What time is— where’s Remus?”

Rose shrugged. “He’s not here,” she said. “I think he stayed at—“

Sirius held up a hand, like she’d said enough. Rose decided to be nice, and gave him the coffee she had prepared for herself.

“Thank you, my perfect angel princess,” he said, cupping his hands around the mug, and inhaling the steam.

Rose snorted, and went back to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. She brought it back to the living room, and she and Sirius sat and watched the morning news. Rose didn’t pay it much attention though, as she was thinking about Remus.

She had joked about him proposing, but what if he did? What if he fell in love with Tonks, and they got married? They wouldn’t want to live here. He would move away, and they might have children. It wasn’t like Remus was too old to have children of his own, and why shouldn’t he have that? Remus would be a great father - he was a great parent to Rose, after all. He should have that, Rose thought. Remus deserved all of the best things, and…

Rose shouldn’t be selfish about this. She should be happy for him.

Sirius cursed, and Rose looked over at him. He’d sloshed coffee over the rim of the mug and burned his fingers. He scowled at the mug, squinting in the morning sunlight, and made a derisive noise in regards to something the newscaster said. He was grumpier than usual this morning.

Rose recalled what Regulus said to her when she was dead. He said Sirius was pining, and the love of his life was about to slip through his fingers. Who could Regulus have meant? she wondered. What if it was Tonks? That would be a nightmare.

“Do you have a thing for Tonks?” Rose asked.

“A _thing_?” Sirius repeated.

“Yeah. Do you like her?”

“Like, _like her_ like her?” Sirius asked, putting a twist on the words like he thought they ought to start braiding each other’s hair.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yes. You seem really annoyed that Remus is dating her.”

Sirius made a face. “She’s too young for him.”

“She’s not that young.”

“She’s too young for Remus,” Sirius said.

“But magical people live so long, what difference does a few years make in the long run?”

“It’s _fourteen_ years. That’s a— a lot. That’s a person. That’s practically your whole life.”

Rose couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t answered the original question. 

“Do you like her?”

“She’s my cousin, Rose. In my head she’s perpetually seven years old.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Yes, that’s a no!”

Rose frowned into her coffee cup. “If you aren’t jealous, then what’s your problem with them dating? I can tell you don’t like it.”

“I—“ Sirius sighed. “I just—“

They were silent.

“When I was… dead,” Rose started slowly, not certain of what she wanted to say just yet. Sirius looked ill at the mention of what had happened to her. “Regulus said that I should tell you something.”

Sirius’s face darkened at the mention of his brother. He had not cared for the account Rose had given of what Regulus had said to her.

“I thought you’d already told us everything.”

“I did,” Rose said. “I told you everything important… but he said some other things that… well, they don’t matter, but—“ 

Sirius huffed. “What did my arsehole of a brother say to you?”

Rose drummed her nails against her coffee cup, and tried to figure out the best way to say it. She decided that there was no good way, and braced for Sirius’s reaction.

“Regulus said that you were pining for someone, and if you didn’t act quickly you would lose the love of your life.”

Sirius looked startled. He stared at her for a moment. “That’s— unexpected.”

“Are you— is he right?” Rose asked.

Sirius shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked into his coffee cup, and Rose poked him in the shin with her toe. 

“I meant what I said the other day, you know. You can date. I won’t mind. I don’t want to hold you back. I’m practically grown up anyway—“

Sirius got to his feet, and said, “You are not. You’ll be thirteen years old forever and ever.” He kissed the crown of her head, and made to leave the room.

“You could have your own family,” she went on, even though the thought made her sick to her stomach.

“Hey,” he said sharply, and Rose looked up. He was scowling, dark brows drawn together in irritation. “ _This_ is my family, Rose. The three of us are a family. I’m not going to go out shopping for a new one, so there will be no dating, and there’s been no pining, and everything is going to be _fine_.”

“All right,” she said, quietly. Her heart felt like it was too big for her chest. “But—“

“What?” He sounded exasperated, and Rose hesitated, but she couldn’t let it go without saying this.

“The _love of your life_ , Sirius. You should have that. You deserve that.”

He sighed and looked at her like he didn’t know what to do with her. “You’re a good kid,” he said. “Don’t know where the hell you got that from…”

“Sirius—“ she said, not wanting him to brush her off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I have everything I need. Nothing needs to change.”

“Will you at least think about it?”

He snorted, and turned to walk from the room. “Oh, believe me, Rosie, I will be doing nothing but.”


	17. Year Six, Part 2

  


Rose was obsessed. After she told Sirius about Regulus claiming the love of his life was going to slip through his fingers, and his reaction had been so peculiar, she was obsessed with figuring out who this woman was. She could not leave a mystery like this alone.

The thing was there weren’t all that many possibilities. The only women Rose knew of that Sirius spent any time with were members of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius had already eliminated Rose’s most likely suspect - Tonks - so there was really only one person it could be. 

Hestia Jones. She was young and pretty. She was a Pureblood witch with short black hair, and she laughed a lot. The love of Sirius’s life was probably someone with a decent sense of humor. 

It was days before Hestia came by Grimmauld Place, and Sirius wasn’t even there at the time. Hestia didn’t ask after Sirius either. She came in to speak with Mr. Weasley about passing a message to Dumbledore. That done, she took a plate of leftovers from dinner when Mrs. Weasley wouldn't take no for an answer, and then left.

Rose was disappointed. Hestia hadn’t given any indication that she had feelings for Sirius, but the possibility was still there. Besides, maybe Sirius was harboring an unrequited love. Rose decided that she would have to wait and see. 

The next day there was a meeting of the full Order, and Rose watched from the second floor landing as Hestia came through the front door. She sat up in attention, and craned her neck to find Sirius. He wasn’t even looking at Hestia. He was standing against a wall, shoulder to shoulder with Remus, who must have said something funny, because Sirius was cracking up. Remus smiled wryly.

Hestia came over to them, and Rose clutched her hands to her chest. This was the moment she had been waiting for! 

And then, nothing happened. Hestia said hello, Sirius and Remus said hello, they talked about Order business, but there were no longing glances, and Sirius seemed no more interested in Hestia than he did in Mrs. Weasley.

Rose frowned, and sat back on her heels.

The adults milling about below started to file in to the dining room for the meeting. 

If it wasn’t Hestia, then who was it? Did Sirius have some secret life she didn’t know about? Did he meet some woman, fall in love, and then never tell Rose about it?

She supposed it was silly to expect Sirius to tell her everything. Why would he tell her about a date, anyway? Only he had sounded so firm the other night at dinner when he said neither he nor Remus had been on any dates, and she didn’t think he had been lying.

Who could it be? 

She only wanted him to be happy, that was all. That was the only reason why she cared so much, because she loved him more than anyone else in the world, and she wanted him to be happy. It wasn’t fair that Sirius had so much taken from him, and she couldn’t bear to see him lose the chance at something else. Even if she couldn’t even identify who the love of his life might be.

Remus would know, she thought suddenly. No one knew Sirius better than Remus, and vice versa. If anyone knew who Sirius was in love with it would be Remus.

:: :: :: ::

It was hard to find a time to talk to Remus when Sirius wasn’t around. When Remus wasn’t going on adorable little dates with Tonks, he was with Sirius.

So one night when Remus was home Rose suggested they pick up dinner from this weird little pub that was all the way in Cornwall. It was so out of the way, that the only reason they even knew it existed was because Remus had lived near it once, during the thirteen years they had been apart, and liked the food so much he remembered it after all this time. They had picked up food from the pub twice before and it always took _ages_. So she sent Sirius off with their order, and went up to Remus’s study.

Remus was sitting at his desk, replying to some owls.

Rose knocked on the door. It was unnecessary, because Remus had excellent hearing and he definitely knew she was there, but it was only polite to knock.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Can I ask you something?”

Remus looked up at her, a grin quirking up the corners of his mouth. “I believe you just did.”

Rose sighed theatrically. “Ugh, dad jokes.”

Remus chuckled and continued scratching out words with a quill.

She fell onto the cushy leather sofa. Nothing but the best for Remus. Remus had tried to pick out an inexpensive fabric one, but Sirius wouldn’t hear of it, and unerringly chose the one that had caught Remus’s eye the moment they walked into the furniture store.

Rose traced her fingers over the brass studs that decorated the arms of the sofa. It was a really nice sofa. The whole room was filled with nice things, and though they hadn’t lived here very long, Remus had already filled the bookshelves, and just last week Sirius had called a contractor to talk about magically expanding the room, and adding some built in bookshelves. Remus hadn’t even asked, but Sirius had noticed that he had run out of book space, and had jumped at the chance to make Remus’s study better.

Sirius was always doing things like that for Remus. Like going all the way to freaking Cornwall and waiting for an hour just to pick up dinner. The food wasn’t even that great. Rose swore the pub just down the block had better food, but since Remus liked it… Sirius hadn’t even grumbled about it.

“What did you want to ask me?”

Right. She was here for a reason, not to get sidetracked thinking about Remus’s furniture.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something.”

She tapped her fingers against the brass studs, and thought she really ought to have thought about what she was going to say before she came up with this plot.

“Rose,” he prompted.

“Right. Um, do you think there’s anyone that Sirius has, you know, feelings for?”

Remus’s quill stopped scratching, and she looked up at him. He was frowning. 

“Why do you ask?” he said.

“I just… want him to be happy, you know, and I think that if there is someone that he has feelings for he’s not going to do anything about it because of me.”

Remus’s expression was sympathetic. “Rose, I don’t think there is anyone like that.”

Rose huffed in agitation. “Look, Remus, you don’t have to lie to me. I _know_ there is someone.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Regulus said there was someone, and when I told Sirius he got this look on his face like he knew exactly what I was talking about, but he thought he’d been keeping the secret _so well_ , and he was shocked I knew.”

Remus frowned and looked like he would speak for a moment, but then shut his mouth. 

“So, do you know who it is?”

Remus shook his head. “I don’t. You said Regulus told you this?”

“Yes.”

“Regulus and Sirius never really got along. It’s possible he was lying to you just to sow some discord.”

“I don’t think that’s what he was doing. The way he said it, it was like using the truth against someone.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, that sounds like Regulus.”

“I just want Sirius to be happy.”

“I think he is happy. Why is it so important to you to have Sirius be with someone romantically?”

Rose sighed, and looked away.

“Because I’m not always going to be here, and you’re dating Tonks now, and that seems to be going well. Soon he might be alone again, and I can’t— I can’t leave him alone. I have to know that someone will be here for him even when I’m not.”

Remus looked pensive. “You don’t just mean when you go back to school, do you?”

Rose shook her head.

There were any number of reasons she might not be here to look after Sirius. Some of them were tragic, and some of them were mundane, but she could at least leave this safeguard in place. A person to make Sirius happy, a person to keep Sirius from… well. She didn’t want to think on that too much.

“Rose, we aren’t going to let anything happen to you. Not again.”

“But you can’t promise that. Anything could happen to me. But even best case scenario, Voldemort is defeated, and I grow up, and want to get my own place. You move in with Tonks, and have little werebabies.” Remus looked alarmed at this idea. “That happens, and Sirius is alone — that’s unacceptable. So, come on, Remus, help me. Who is the love of Sirius’s life?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know.”

“Was there someone before Azkaban? Did he date anyone at Hogwarts?”

“Sirius wasn’t what you’d call faithful,” said Remus. “He dated a lot of girls. Most of them not even long enough for us to have learned their names.”

Rose sighed. “There’s got to be someone,” said Rose. “It can’t be that the only people he gives a damn about are you and me.”

Remus stilled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You just thought of something, didn’t you?”

Remus shook his head. “I didn’t think anything.” He got to his feet, and shuffled the papers on his desk. “We should get things ready for dinner. He’ll be back soon.”

Rose checked the clock. Remus was right. She sighed, disappointed that this was a bust. Sirius had done a damn good job of hiding his feelings if even Remus had no clue about them.

They went down to the kitchen, and set out plates and silverware. Rose poured drinks, and set them on the table.

The back door swung open, and Sirius called, “Darlings, I’m home!”

Remus fumbled a glass, and it shattered on the floor. He blinked at the mess for a moment, and said, “I left my wand upstairs.”

Sirius chuckled, and vanished the glass. “I come bearing dinner. I even got them to throw in a cherry pie.”

“That’s my favorite,” said Remus.

“I know,” said Sirius, like this was obvious. “That’s why I didn’t get apple.”

“Apple is my favorite,” said Rose.

Sirius smirked at her. “I know.”

“Mean,” she said, and pouted.

“We’ll get sushi tomorrow, all right, kitten?”

“I am appeased,” said Rose, and started pulling containers of food from the plastic bag and setting them on the table.

Remus was staring at the pie. “Thank you,” he said.

Sirius smiled, and sat down at the table. “Anything for you, Moony. Rosie, where’d you put the fried mushrooms?”

They ate dinner, and no one ruined it with news that they were dating Tonks. Remus was quiet, and Sirius was chatty. There had been lots of weird people in the pub today, and Sirius told stories about them. At one point in the story, Remus laughed and Sirius gave him a look that was so breathtakingly fond, it all suddenly clicked in Rose’s head.

_Oh. My. God._

Merlin, but she could be oblivious sometimes.

It was _Remus_. Of course it was Remus, who else could it possibly be? There _was_ no one else.

She felt a sense of profound relief for one shining moment, because this was the perfect outcome, really. She couldn’t have asked for a better answer. 

But then Remus stopped laughing, looked away, and swallowed, and Sirius looked a bit perplexed at his reaction, and when he carried on with his story it wasn’t quite with the same feeling as before. 

Rose realized then that this was possibly the worst thing that could have happened.

:: :: :: ::

Summer went on, and things grew worse. 

Diagon Alley was attacked by the Death Eaters, and when the dust settled Aurors found that Mr. Ollivander had been kidnapped from his wand shop, and Florean Fortescue was missing. Not long after the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, was found dead in her home. The Aurors suspected Voldemort had killed her personally. She’d been bitten repeatedly by a snake.

The war was heating up, and things were no better closer to home.

The door to Remus’s study opened, and Rose quickly paused the Nintendo game she and Sirius were pretending to play. Tonks’s voice floated down the stairs, and while Rose couldn’t make out the words, she heard the rumble of Remus’s reply. He sounded amused and wry, and Tonks laughed.

Sirius growled. He appeared to be unaware that Rose could hear him.

The stairs creaked under Tonks’s feet, and she appeared in the doorway of the living room. She gave a startled little laugh when she caught sight of Rose and Sirius, sitting on the rug in front of the telly, staring at her.

“Oh!” she said, and her hair and cheeks blushed prettily pink. “I didn’t know you two were here!” 

“Hi Tonks,” Rose said, attempting to sound happy to see her. It fell flat, but Tonks didn’t notice, because Remus appeared behind her and set a hand at her waist. Tonks nudged happily into the contact, and smiled up at Remus. His eyes were soft as he smiled back at her.

Rose heard Sirius make a pained little noise, and she felt a sick sort of despair at the sight of Remus looking so content.

“I’ll show you out,” Remus said. Tonks’s smile turned cheeky, and they left the doorway, and disappeared from Rose and Sirius’s sight as they walked to the front door.

It was so quiet in the living room that she could hear the whir of the game console, and Sirius squeezing his controller until the plastic creaked.

Rose heard Remus and Tonks murmur quietly to each other, Tonks laughed again, and there was the unmistakable noise of kisses being exchanged. The front door opened, letting in the sounds of London, and it shut again, leaving the house in echoing silence once more. 

Remus seemed to hesitate by the front door, but after a long moment he appeared again in the doorway.

He cleared his throat. “So.”

Rose fiddled with her controller, flicking the plastic buttons with her nails. She chanced a glance up. Sirius and Remus were both looking at the same patch of floor, but neither looked at the other.

“Have we decided on dinner yet?” Remus asked.

Sirius stood. “You know, I’m not feeling very hungry. You two can decide.” He left the room in a hurry, brushed past Remus without looking at him, and took the stairs two at a time. Rose heard a door shut, and the lock turn on his bedroom door.

Rose stifled a sigh, and turned the Nintendo off. She tossed the controllers to their customary positions on the floor in front of the telly.

Remus sat on the sofa, and she joined him there. He put an arm around her shoulders. Sirius and Remus had been much more inclined to hug her since the incident at the Ministry. It was like they had to be certain that she was still there, still alive. Rose ate up the affection, and she clung back too. Especially now. 

Remus was going to leave them.

No one had said as much, but it was obvious. He had fallen in love with Tonks - or if he hadn’t yet then he would soon. Sirius was obviously uncomfortable with their relationship, deeply unhappy about it even, and that made Remus upset. Rose was upset because they were upset, and she couldn’t stand the idea of Remus leaving, and she hated the regret on Sirius’s face. The regret that was all her fault. The worst part was that no one said a word. They just existed in this mine field, tip-toeing around each other, and Rose felt like when things exploded, when it all finally came out, when Sirius finally started yelling, that nothing would ever be the same.

“Are you all right?” Remus asked.

Rose slapped on a smile. “I’m fine.”

Remus hesitated. “Are you all right with Tonks being around? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here. This is your home.”

“I like Tonks,” she said. 

Remus could tell when she was dissembling. “I know things have gotten… awkward around here. I don’t want you to think—“

“Remus,” she said, stopping him before he could say any more. She didn’t think she could take it just now. “I just want you to be happy. I want everyone to be happy.” Rose thought about how _unhappy_ they had all been lately. Especially Sirius. They both sighed.

Once Rose figured out who Sirius was pining over, she couldn’t stand to see the tormented look in Sirius’s eyes when he saw Remus and Tonks together. She only wished she had passed on Regulus’s advice sooner, when it might have made a difference. 

“I want that too,” Remus said.

They sat in silence for awhile. Rose felt as though she had avoided another land mine. She was uncertain whether that should be counted as a victory or a pathetic attempt at delaying the inevitable.

“Let’s get dinner,” Remus said. “How about steaks from The Rose and Lion?”

“Sirius’s favorite,” Rose said.

“Maybe we can get him to eat something,” he said with a small smile.

Rose went to fetch her coat, and eyed Sirius’s locked door on the way back downstairs. It was ominously quiet. She wondered how much more Sirius could take before he snapped.

:: :: :: ::

Rose Flooed back to Royal Crescent in the evening. She paused in front of the fire, trying to gauge the mood of the house. What kind of mess was she walking into tonight? There were days when she stepped from the Floo and she could feel the tension thrumming through the place. Days when she could feel Sirius’s misery hanging in the air like a cloud. Tonight the house felt numb. 

All was dark and silent, but then she saw an odd flicker of light coming from the living room. Sirius was sitting on the sofa watching telly in the dark with the sound off. He looked a little forbidding with the flickering light casting odd shadows over his face, but Rose curled up on the sofa next to him anyway, drawing herself into a tight ball with her arms around her knees.

He didn’t say a word, but obviously disapproved of her body language, because he hooked his arm around her neck, and tugged until her head was lying on his shoulder.

“How was your day?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” she murmured.

All was quiet in the house. Too quiet.

“Where’s Remus?” she asked.

He was silent for too long. “He’s not here.” He was at Tonks’s flat again.

“Oh,” she said.

It was all suddenly rather unbearable, and there was a lump in her throat, and tears in her eyes before she could force them back. She dipped her head so Sirius wouldn’t see, and tried to breathe normally. But her breaths came too shaky, and he must have noticed because he held her tighter, and pressed a kiss to her hair.

His own voice was suspiciously rough when he said, “Everything is going to be okay.”

It was _not_ going to be okay.

Rose gave in, and buried her face in his chest, wrapped her arm as tight around his torso as she could. Her tears wetted his shirt, but she would be damned if she let herself sob. It was selfish to cry. Remus was happy, and she should be happy for him. She was practically grown up anyway, only one year until she was of age. Remus deserved to have a family of his own, with his own children. And Sirius was hurting, and she should be comforting him. She shouldn’t be—

Fine, she was crying. Sirius was crying too, whatever he might say later, she could feel it, the stutter of breath in his chest. Rose hugged him tighter, and felt like she was losing everything.

Rose woke up on the sofa the next morning with a throw pillow under her head and a blanket tucked around her. She had _actually_ cried herself to sleep. She felt disgusted with herself, and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. Sirius was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, staring into it like answers lay at the bottom. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

“Morning,” she said, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She joined him at the table and stole the society pages from the newspaper. Time to see what Wild Rose was up to this week. Her life was so much more exciting through Rita Skeeter’s eyes.

“We should talk about it,” Sirius said, out of nowhere.

Rose froze. There was nothing she wanted to do less. She gathered herself and carefully laid the newspaper out flat, creasing the corners with nervous fingers. “We don’t have to talk about it,” she assured him. “I’m just having trouble adjusting.”

Sirius snorted humorlessly. “Me too.”

They both stared into their coffee cups.

“Rose, whatever happens between Remus and I… with Remus and Tonks, whatever happens, you know that we both love you.”

Rose swallowed on a sudden lump in her throat. “I know that.”

“Even if things change, even if— even if he… goes. Us loving you isn’t going to change.”

“I know.”

“And things might be different, but he’ll still be there for you.”

Rose nodded and bit her lip.

“Even if he’s gone, even if it’s just the two of us,” Sirius grabbed her hand, and she looked up into his bloodshot eyes, as bright with tears as her own. “I am _never_ going anywhere,” he promised. “You and I will _always_ have each other, even if we don’t have him everyday.”

Rose nodded helplessly, not trusting herself to speak, and let Sirius pull her out of her chair and into a hug. She took careful breaths until the urge to cry abated.

“You know Remus and I are going to have a fight now, right?” he said into her hair.

Rose winced. “You’ve shown impressive restraint up till now.”

Sirius chuckled darkly. “I don’t know about that, but I wanted to clear things up with you first. I wanted to make sure you knew exactly where you stood before things started to get ugly.”

“ _Start_ to get ugly? Sirius, things have been hideous for weeks. You shouting will just relieve the tension, I’m sure.”

He laughed a little, and cupped her face in his hands. “I am going to fix this,” he promised her.

Rose looked at him skeptically. “And what if you can’t?”

He gave her a brave smile. “Come home around eleven this evening with a bottle of firewhiskey on hand, okay, darling?”

Rose snorted. “All right, then.”

Sirius went upstairs to get some sleep before Remus returned home, and Rose settled in with her coffee and newspaper. She read about how Wild Rose had been spotted with a dashing older gentleman at a London pub earlier that week, what she had been wearing, and it all sounded rather scandalous and exciting until one realized that they were reporting about her fetching takeaway with Remus.

Rose set the newspaper aside and cradled her mug in her hands while she looked out the back windows onto their garden. Climbing yellow roses were blooming along the far brick wall, the sky looked a bit sunny for once, and she was certain that she would return home tonight to find Remus gone for good.

:: :: :: ::

Rose spent the day at Grimmauld Place, and distracted herself as well as she could. Her friends were not aware of the situation at Royal Crescent. Rose didn’t think she should say anything, since so much of it hinged upon feelings that Sirius had never confessed. Everything involving Sirius and Remus seemed too fragile to even speak of it.

She read books about the Dark Arts with Hermione, and complained bitterly to Ginny about Cedric’s unwillingness to have sex with her.

“He keeps stopping!” Rose said. “Right when things start to get interesting.”

“That’s annoying,” said Ginny. “Who ever heard of a boy who didn’t want to have sex, anyway?”

“Right?” said Rose. “He should be down on his knees grateful for a girlfriend like me—“

“Well, that’s where you’d like him,” Ginny said slyly.

Hermione made a scandalized little noise. “You two are terrible,” she said.

Ginny laughed.

Despite the fact that she had a half dozen protective older brothers, Ginny had _done things_. She had _experience_. Rose was so jealous. She hadn’t progressed beyond over-the-clothes groping with either of her boyfriends - George presumably because she’d been young, and Cedric because he cared about her delicate, virgin sensibilities too much. 

Rose was ready. She was willing. She _wanted_ it. She had thought and considered the situation carefully, and she had read the books, and she knew her contraceptive charms. She had done _research_ \- the twins had left behind an impressive stash of porn in their room at Grimmauld Place, okay? And Fleur was not stingy on the details of her love life with Bill. So she thought she had a pretty comprehensive picture of what sex would be like, and Rose _wanted_ it.

What she wouldn’t give for a boyfriend who would just take what she was offering. One who would hold her in his arms, and let her fist her fingers in his fine, blond hair, and who would just _take her_ —

Rose shut her eyes and scolded herself for fantasizing about Draco Malfoy. Again.

:: :: :: ::

After dinner, Rose retired to the parlor of Grimmauld Place with Fleur and Bill, and stack of fashion magazines and store catalogues. Rose and Fleur were picking out clothes for Rose, which Fleur would go into London to buy as Rose couldn’t leave the confines of either Grimmauld Place or Royal Crescent to have her annual back-to-school fall-wardrobe shopping spree. Rose lingered over every decision, as she was determined to stay away from Royal Crescent until eleven, just as Sirius had asked. She didn’t want to be in the middle of that fight for all the galleons in Gringotts.

Ginny and Hermione had departed long ago as they both loathed Fleur – Ginny because ‘that French tart’ had seduced her favorite brother into proposing marriage, and Hermione because Fleur was ‘so full of herself.’ Rose thought the seduction Ginny was so disgusted by had been perpetuated by Bill rather than the other way around, but Hermione’s distain of Fleur was more troubling, because Rose felt that she was probably just as vain as Fleur, and only slightly better at hiding it.

Fleur was in her customary spot in Bill’s lap, flat out refusing to buy Rose anything that could be called ‘punk,’ while Rose protested, “But it’s _my_ wardrobe!” when the Headmaster arrived, and requested Rose’s assistance. Rose was happy to give it, because whatever Dumbledore had in mind, it would surely be an excellent distraction.

Rose discovered later that what he’d needed her for was her very famous face. Rose would have been annoyed, but she and the would-be Professor Slughorn got on like a house on fire.

“Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you,” Slughorn said, topping off Rose’s drink. The mead was lovely, though drinking with one’s headmaster was bizarre.

“I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” said Rose, amused despite herself. She nodded towards the hallway where Dumbledore had disappeared to go to the bathroom. “He’s usually much more subtle.”

Slughorn snorted. “Cheeky. Your mother was cheeky, too.”

“You taught my mother?”

“Yes, well. One shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, but she was one of mine. Lily Evans was one of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know? Charming girl.”

“I must get it from her,” Rose said with a sly smile. “However, I’ve heard that I got every drop of modesty from my father. All three of them.”

Slughorn laughed, as though it had been surprised out of him, and Rose gave herself a mental point. 

She rose from her chair and went to the fireplace, where Slughorn had displayed a collection of photographs on the mantle.

“Wow,” she said, “Is this you and Gwenog Jones?”

“It certainly is,” said Slughorn. “I got her a tryout for the Harpies during her seventh year at Hogwarts. They signed her immediately. Still sends me season tickets every year.”

Rose smiled. “Well, she owes you.”

“She owes me for more than that,” Slughorn said, and leaned towards her like he had a secret he really shouldn’t be sharing. “I also got her out of a tight fix during the doping scandal a few years back.”

“Gwenog Jones?” she said. “No way. No _way_ was she doping.”

“Indeed,” Slughorn said, smirking. “That’s what the tests found, wasn’t it?”

Rose made a delighted sound. “Professor, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying nothing at all, Miss Potter,” he said, but then smiled like he’d gotten away with something.

“Oh, my god,” she said, and laughed. “I bet you have all kinds of stories.” She eyed the collection of photographs, and found one of Slughorn shaking hands with Minister Fudge. “Tell me, what juicy gossip have you got on Fudge?”

Slughorn laughed, and topped off her drink. “Well…”

Which was how Dumbledore returned to the room just as Rose was laughing and saying loudly, “I don’t believe it! That did not happen.”

“Oh,” Slughorn said jovially, “it most certainly did.”

“Say,” Rose said, “did you hear about the thing with the goats?”

“It’s true. Every word. I’ve seen those goats, and they did not look the same afterwards.”

Rose fell about herself laughing, and Slughorn chuckled.

Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly, and said, “Well, Horace, I suppose we must be taking our leave. I don’t suppose--”

“Yes, yes, Dumbledore,” Slughorn said, flapping a hand, “you’ll see me at Hogwarts in the fall. If only to see this charming creature again.”

Rose smiled, “It will be a pleasure, sir. You’ll have to tell me more stories.”

“I have scores of them, my dear.”

“I can’t wait.”

:: :: :: ::

At precisely eleven o’clock Rose Flooed back to Royal Crescent, bottle of firewhiskey in hand. She was so used to the house being ominously silent that it was a shock to arrive in the middle of Sirius and Remus’s shouting match.

Rose sighed, and wondered if she ought to Floo back to Grimmauld Place, or try to sneak up the stairs, and cast a silencing charm over her bedroom. She wavered in indecision before their words became clear, and she couldn’t help but stay and listen.

“—never even asked me if I wanted to come. You just assumed—“

“Well, didn’t you want to? After everything! Didn’t you want to be with me and Rose, here, together?”

“Yes, of course I did!”

“Then what are you so upset about?”

“Because, Sirius, I’m not yours to lead around by the nose!”

“I’m not leading you around!”

“You’ve always led me around! Assumed I’d follow. Assumed I’d be there. And I _was_ there. I was always there! But then you weren’t! I was alone!”

There was a fraught silence, and then, “I was in Azkaban!”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t there!”

“Yes it was! Yes it _was!_ What were you thinking, going after Peter like that! Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was— I was—“

“I would have gone with you! I would have followed you anywhere!”

“ _Remus_.”

“You were gone. Lost to me. The betrayal, Sirius. The loss. Merlin it was— unbearable. I had to let you go.”

“Remus.”

“And you’re back now, and free, and we have Rose, and everything was—“

“Perfect,” Sirius choked.

“Yes.”

“It can be better,” Sirius insisted. “We’re a family, Remus. We can be—“

“Sirius.”

“Please don’t tell me I’m too late, Remus. Please.”

There was silence.

Rose waited for Remus’s reply, her heart in her throat.

“Remus,” Sirius said, coaxing. “I love you.”

Remus made a wounded noise. 

“I can’t do this,” Remus said. “Sirius, I can’t. I’m sorry, I—“

Remus stumbled from the room, eyes wild, and saw Rose standing frozen on the hearth. “Oh, Merlin,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

Rose tried to nod, like she understood. Like everything was fine.

Remus shut his eyes, and turned away. “I’m so sorry.” He grabbed his coat from a hook by the door, and left out the front door. The door shut with a horrible, final clang. Rose stared at it for several long moments, then took a shaky breath, and walked to the living room, where Sirius was slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands.

She set the bottle of firewhiskey down on the coffee table, and sat beside him. She leaned against his shoulder, and tried not to think. Thinking would lead to realizing, and that would lead to more crying. They sat like that for many long minutes, the silence of the house echoing terribly.

Finally, Sirius sat up, pressed a kiss to her hair, and sighed. “Let’s crack open that bottle, shall we?”

Rose thought about pointing out that she was still only fifteen, nearly sixteen, but decided against it. Responsible parenting was Remus’s job, and since Remus had left— 

“I’ll get the glasses,” she said.

Rose and Sirius took the firewhiskey and glasses out to the garden. They huddled under blankets, because though it was June the night air carried a chill, and they complained to each other about the lack of visible stars. Rose had control of the bottle, and topped off Sirius’s glass whenever he held it out to her.

She sipped her own glass slowly, all too aware of who was going to have to be the responsible one tonight, and made a face at the burn of the whiskey going down her throat.

“Hey,” Sirius said awhile later, his voice a little wobbly. “Aren’t you supposed to not be doing that? With the alcohol and the drinking it?”

Rose snorted, and poured herself a little more. She shot him a defiant little smile over the rim of her glass as she took another sip.

Sirius watched her incredulously and shook his head. “You are such a brat. S’all James’s fault. You get it from him.” But he didn’t stop her, and held out his glass for another refill.

They bickered amiably until Sirius started to sway in his seat, and his silences grew progressively more maudlin. When she thought he might end up passing out in the garden otherwise, Rose dragged him to his feet and helped him up the stairs to his room. He collapsed face down on the bed with a groan. Rose found a vial of Hangover Potion in his bathroom cabinet and set it on his bedside table for the morning.

He mumbled into his pillow.

“What did you say?” she asked.

He flopped his head around with a put-upon sigh. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Said I’d fix it. Couldn’t.”

“It’s all right, Sirius,” she said. She wasn’t sure that it _was_ all right, not really. She wasn’t sure that it would ever be all right, but it wasn’t his fault that he had fallen in love with Remus, and it wasn’t Remus’s fault that he didn’t love Sirius back. But that didn’t make anything all right.

“He didn’t want me, Rosie.” He sounded so sad.

“I know,” she said quietly.

Sirius sighed unhappily into his pillow, and she watched his features slacken as he fell asleep.

Rose left the room and shut the door quietly behind her. She went up to her bedroom, buried herself in blankets and pillows, and cried herself to sleep.


	18. Year Six, Part 3

:: :: :: ::

The next morning, Rose Flooed over to Grimmauld Place to let Sirius nurse his hangover and broken heart in peace. Molly Weasley was slaving away over breakfast, while Kreacher muttered to himself in the corner. He had gotten ideas lately that his duties included cooking for everyone, which Rose was inclined to encourage, though trying to get Mrs. Weasley to abandon the kitchen was a battle lost before it had begun. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were sitting at the table. Rose slid into a seat beside Ginny, and helped herself to toast.

“Morning,” she said. Ginny and Ron mumbled greetings. Hermione passed the jam.

Molly floated over serving platters piled high with fluffy eggs and sausages, and they all tucked in. Everyone perked up after eating. Ron and Ginny had a short battle with drawn forks over the last sausage. Ron won, but compromised by cutting the sausage in half and giving the other to Ginny.

The Floo flared green, and Tonks appeared. Rose caught her breath, feeling guilty. Tonks was clutching a bit of parchment in her hand, and she had rage in her eyes.

“Have you seen Remus?” she asked Rose.

“No,” said Rose, slowly. Tonks’s eyes narrowed, sensing Rose’s guilt probably. “Not since last night.”

Tonks scowled, and left the room. They heard her stomping up the staircase. 

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked at Rose curiously. 

“What’s with her?” asked Ginny.

Rose shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

They were all very quiet for a moment, listening to the echo of Tonks’s loud footsteps on the stairs. Then came the sound of doors being flung open, and banging against the walls. More stomping, up to the next floor, and more doors being banged open. 

Another door opened with a bang, and then there was a long pause. They heard Tonks’s voice raised in anger. The four teenagers looked at each other, and then were out of their seats, tumbling out into the hall. Tonks’s voice carried easily down to them from the third floor.

“—The hell is this?” she demanded. 

A low murmur from Remus, and then Tonks said, “What are you? Some fifth year who’s too scared to break up with his girlfriend to her face? You had to do it in an owl?”

The girls gasped quietly.

“Oooh,” said Ron. “That’s awful.”

Another murmur from Remus, and then Tonks said, “I don’t understand,” and her voice broke. 

The four teenagers decided that they’d done enough eavesdropping for one day, and retreated back into the kitchen.

“Everything all right?” asked Mrs. Weasley, as they resumed their seats at the kitchen table.

Ron shook his head. “I don’t think so, Mum.”

“Oh, dear,” she said. 

From upstairs came the sound of breaking glass, then Tonks’s feet on the stairs. They all stared at the kitchen door, the foyer just beyond. They heard the front door open, hinges squeaking, and the low rumble of traffic from the street.

“I’m so sorry,” said Remus. He must have followed Tonks down the stairs.

“Go to hell, you enormous cowardly arsehole,” said Tonks. The front door slammed shut.

There was a tense moment of complete silence, and then Remus’s shuffling footsteps could be heard ascending the staircases, and then faintly, the sound of a door closing.

“Merlin,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Women.” He seemed to realize his mistake a moment later, when four pairs of eyes tried to burn holes into his head. “I mean— I meant nothing. Never mind.”

“Do you think he really broke up with her in an owl?” said Ginny.

“That doesn’t sound like Professor Lupin,” said Hermione, who still managed to hold on to the belief that teachers could do no wrong. “Why was he staying here last night?”

“Did something happen?” Ginny asked Rose. “I thought Remus really liked her.”

“I did too,” said Rose. She could not bring herself to share news of the fight or of Sirius’s feelings, not like this, like it was just a piece of juicy gossip. 

Though she was going to go home to tell Sirius about all about it, because it _meant_ something, didn’t it, that Remus had run away only so far as Grimmauld Place, and had broken up with Tonks? Maybe, just maybe, Sirius’s feelings weren’t unrequited at all. Maybe Remus would come home, and maybe Sirius and Remus would be happy and together.

Maybe. Rose dared to hope.

:: :: :: ::

Rose Flooed home, under the pretense that she had forgotten to feed Hedwig, and told Sirius what had transpired between Remus and Tonks. Sirius seemed relieved to hear that Remus was staying at Grimmauld Place, but was only more upset to hear that Remus had broken up with Tonks. Rose didn’t understand why he wasn’t jumping for joy, but thought it might be the hangover he was clearly suffering. Sirius’s eyes were bloodshot, and he winced at all bright light and loud noises. Rose didn’t know why he hadn’t taken a potion, but supposed he must be punishing himself. 

Rose caught him doctoring his coffee with whiskey. “Hair of the dog,” he explained. Rose thought you were only meant to do that once, and that cup of coffee was definitely not his first this morning.

Rose frowned, made tea and a plate of toast to put in front of him, and left him picking at the crust. 

She Flooed back to Grimmauld Place, and went up to the library to meet Ginny and Hermione. They were sitting at the table in the library, and there was a fresh pile of books to comb through for information about horcruxes. Ron was there as well, and he and Ginny seemed to be bickering over the ownership of a copy of Quidditch Weekly, while Hermione watched them over the top of a book titled, ‘Horrible Hexes and their Heinous Handling.’

Ron held the magazine over Ginny’s head, well out of her reach. Ginny countered by climbing up on her chair, and jumping on Ron’s back. He yelped, and she clung on, even when he tried to shake her off. Hermione laughed, and Ron was distracted enough in grinning back at her that Ginny was able to dig her fingers into his ribs. He yelped, and dropped the magazine on the table. Ginny grabbed it with a cry of triumph, and danced away with it. Ron sat down at the table again, rubbing the spot where Ginny had injured him with a scowl on his face.

“I want it when you’re done,” he said.

“Fine,” said Ginny, who dropped into a cushy chair in the corner. She kicked her legs up onto the arm, and settled in to read.

Siblings. Rose didn’t understand it at all.

“So,” said Ron. There was an open book on the table in front of Hermione, and Ron turned it around and started to read. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he flipped the cover closed. “Alternatives to the Unforgivable Curses?” he read aloud. He looked at Hermione in alarm. “What are you reading this for?”

“Research,” said Hermione. She pulled the book back across the table, and dropped Horrible Hexes on top. 

“For what?”

“None of your business,” said Ginny, not looking up from her magazine.

Ron turned around in his chair, and glared at his sister. “I bet Mum would love to know what you girls are up to in here,” he threatened.

Ginny dropped the magazine to her chest, and gave Ron a look. They had a short glaring contest, and then Ginny heaved a sigh, and turned back to her magazine. “We’re looking for ways to kill You Know Who, Ron. Use your brain, for Merlin’s sake.”

Ron snorted. “No, really.”

Hermione frowned, and shut her book with a snap. “What did you think we were doing in here all summer?”

“I dunno,” said Ron. “Whatever girls do when there are no blokes about.”

“Nail polish and pillow fights?” said Ginny. “Who do you think we are? Fleur?”

Ron shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Just for that, I won’t be giving you a manicure today, Ginny,” said Rose.

“Aw,” said Ginny. “I didn’t mean it, Rose. You know I love you more than Phlegm. You’re much less silly. And this pink is chipping something awful.” She examined her fingernails, and made a face.

Rose stuck her tongue out at Ginny, and dropped into the chair beside Ron. 

“I’m going to tell him,” said Rose.

“No, don’t!” said Ginny. “I don’t want Ron to be about every day.”

Ron sat up in his chair. “Yes!” he said. “Tell me.”

“He can help,” said Rose. “More eyes on the books can only help us find something faster.”

Ginny groaned a complaint. “If I read more books can we not tell him?”

“Tell me!” said Ron.

So Rose did. She told him about the horcruxes, and everything that Regulus had told her in the park. Ron looked horrified, and vaguely disgusted when she had finished. 

“You had a bit of You Know Who’s soul in you?” he asked, and Rose nodded. “That’s revolting,” he said.

“So that’s why we are trying to find any information we can about horcruxes. There’s no information in the Hogwarts library at all, but the Black family collected loads of books about dark magic, so we’re looking through them.”

“You can start with these,” said Hermione, and put two thick books in front of Ron.

He looked at the books, and made a face. “I don’t think I thought this through properly.” But then Hermione smiled at him, and he settled in easily enough. 

:: :: :: ::

In the afternoon, there came a knock on the library door. The door was standing open, and they all looked up from their dusty, dark arts books to see Remus standing in the doorway. Rose felt a squeak die in her throat.

He looked at Rose, and asked, “May I speak to you for a minute, Rose?”

Rose gaped for a moment, and then nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” Ginny and Hermione were giving her funny looks, but Rose followed Remus without a word to either of them. They walked out into the hall, and down to the parlor. 

Her palms were sweaty, and her stomach was clenched, and from her reaction one would think _she_ was the one who had confessed unrequited feelings the night before and not Sirius. The thing was that she cared _so bloody much_ about what would happen between her godparents that it was making her ill. If they didn’t make up she didn’t know what she would do.

Remus closed the parlor door behind them, and Rose stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Remus couldn’t quite seem to meet her eye, and stayed near the doorway.

“I thought we should talk,” he said, and cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, Remus. I think I know everything you’re going to say.”

“Rose—“

“Look,” she said. “I’m not going to take sides. I’m not. I can’t. I love both of you too much to— I mean, I’m not happy that you left, but I thought it was going to happen sooner or later— I thought you’d leave us for Tonks, and that’s fine!”

“Rose—“

“Just let me say this?” she pleaded. He nodded reluctantly, and she went on. “I feel like my family is falling apart, and that sucks because I haven’t had one for very long. It’s only been, what?”

“Two years,” Remus supplied.

“Two years! And of course I would— Merlin, I would love it if everything worked out the way Sirius wanted it to—“

“Rose—“

“But I understand that you just don’t feel the same way! I just wish… but I can deal with it. And I won’t take sides, but I won’t leave him, Remus. He doesn’t have anyone but you and me, and I won’t leave him alone. Not again. I don’t know what he’d _do_ if he was alone—“ 

“Sweetheart,” he said, and pulled her into a hug. Rose felt herself breathing very fast against his shoulder - god, was she going to start crying _again?_ \- and clung to him. “I’m not going to make you choose,” he said. “Of course you’ll stay with him, that’s… that was never even a question.”

Rose sagged a little in relief, and pressed her cheek against his chest.

“Dora and I decided to stop seeing each other,” he said.

Rose pulled back from him, wincing. “I, um, I know. I was here this morning, and I heard…”

Remus shook his head, and rubbed at his forehead. “Of course you did,” he said.

“I just… can I ask? Why did you… I thought you really liked her?”

“I did,” he said. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain.”

“Did you do it because of Sirius?”

Remus winced. “I did it, because it was the right thing to do. I had no business being in a relationship when I’m—“ He sighed abruptly, and looked away.

Rose frowned. “When you’re what?” She desperately wanted the end of that sentence to be, ‘when I’m in love with Sirius’ but she had a horrible suspicion that it was going to end with, ‘a werewolf.’

Remus held his hands out. “I think we all need to take some time apart. Really think about things, and—“

“You’re not coming home?” said Rose.

“Not yet,” he said. “Obviously, Sirius and I have some things to work through before we could live in the same house again—“

“But, Remus—“

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry that we’ve put you in this position. It’s not fair to you.”

“It’s all right—“

“It isn’t,” he insisted. “You should never have been made to feel this way, like you were losing your family. Even if… even if I had left to be with Dora I would still consider you my family, Rose. You are the closest thing I will ever have to a child of my own, and you are so precious to me.”

Rose swallowed on a sudden lump in her throat. “I love you too, Remus,” she sniffed.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’re with Sirius, and he’s always been much better at taking care of you than I have. You’ll be safe with him.”

Rose shook her head. “I’m safe with you as well,” she said. “I need both of you.”

“You’re not losing me,” Remus said. “I’m only a Floo away.”

But that wasn’t right. How could she explain it? It felt like he was pulling away from all of them. Like he was running off to lick his wounds, and wasn’t planning on coming back.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Remus said. “It might take some time, but things will work out the way they ought to.”

Far from the comfort that Remus intended, Rose felt more anxious than she had before. What was she going to do now?

:: :: :: ::

Because of all the upheaval, Rose’s birthday turned out to be an awkward affair. They had a little party with birthday cake with the Weasleys and Hermione at Grimmauld Place, and though Remus and Sirius were trying, they were awkward with each other. It was as though they had forgotten how to talk to each other.

To ease their suffering, and because she had an ulterior motive, Rose let them off the hook for their traditional family birthday celebration, which usually involved a ridiculously expensive meal at a posh London restaurant. Rose was sure she would have to carry the conversation the entire night, and frankly, she wasn’t feeling up to it. Instead, they got to retreat to their corners - Sirius back to Royal Crescent, and Remus to the attic bedroom at Grimmauld Place - and Rose invited Cedric to meet her that night at Grimmauld Place.

She met him at the fireplace in the kitchen with a nervous grin, and dragged him upstairs, where she threw open a door with a flourish. She pulled him inside, locked the door behind them, and said, “Voila!”

There were only two unoccupied bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. One was Sirius’s childhood room, which was obviously out. Rose had made another deal with Kreacher, and he had cleaned Regulus’s old bedroom from top to bottom. Rose had hidden most of the room’s former decorations in the closet (no bats, but enough Slytherin memorabilia to put any Hufflepuff off his game), she had lit some nicely scented candles, and had grabbed a few rose blossoms from the garden at home and tossed their petals all over the bed.

It was downright romantic.

“Rose, what is this?” Cedric asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. She grinned slyly, ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach, and plucked at a button on his shirt. She popped the top one suggestively. “It’s my birthday present.”

“Your—?”

“For my birthday I want sex.” She kissed him, but not before she saw his eyes go wide and shocked. She laughed against his mouth. He was adorable, and easier to scandalize than Hermione.

“But what about—“

“There’s a bed, flowers, candles,” she said, anticipating his concerns. “The door is locked. I took a contraceptive potion, and I cast the spell— double protection. No one knows we’re here. No one ever comes in this room. It’s perfect.” She kissed him softly. “I want you, Cedric.”

He still hadn’t touched her - hadn’t even kissed back, really. She pulled away. He looked— “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” he said.

“Oh.” Rose blinked at him for a moment. She fell back and sat on the edge of the bed, and stared up at him. “Why not?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, and stopped. He looked at his shoes, at the candles, at the petal strewn bed. “Because we’re not in love,” he said.

Rose felt a pit open up in her stomach, and suddenly she couldn’t bear to look at him. This was the real reason that he had always pulled away before. It wasn’t concern about the gloomy atmosphere, or being caught by anyone wandering about Grimmauld Place. Of course he didn’t love her. _Of course_ he didn’t. And it came as no surprise that Cedric, he of the noble, good intentions, would only want to have sex with someone he was in love with.

Rose was a terrible person.

“I like you,” he said quickly. “I like you so much! You’re amazing. But we don’t…”

“I know,” she sighed. Her shoulders drooped. “I feel the same way. I thought this would fix it.”

He was silent for a moment, and then said slowly, “You thought it would fix it? Fix what?”

“Us,” she said, and then closed her eyes, because. Wow. She should not have said that.

“Fix us? We’re just not there yet. We just need time. Why would you think sex would fix… I don’t understand.”

Oh, Merlin, this getting worse by the moment, and Rose couldn’t even look at him. She couldn’t make herself say the words that would erase this, would smooth it over, and end this unpleasantness with a kiss and a, ‘see you tomorrow.’ Because Cedric thought they just weren’t there yet, and Rose already knew they would never get there, and she couldn’t lie to either of them about it any longer.

“Cedric…”

Neither of them said anything for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.

“Is there someone else?” he asked, sounding hurt. “Do you still have feelings for Weasley?”

“No,” she said.

“Then what’s wrong?” he said. “I don’t understand. Rose, look at me.”

Rose sighed, and dragged her eyes up to meet his. He looked hurt and bewildered, and Rose was scum. _Scum_. He deserved so much better than her.

“I’m sorry, Cedric.”

“Oh, Merlin,” he said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You want to break up.”

Rose nodded.

He made a face like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “I don’t— I thought— I thought everything was okay. I thought we were solid. I thought you—“

“I’m sorry.”

“But why! What did I do?” he asked. “What _didn’t_ I do?”

“It’s nothing you did!” she said. “It’s not your fault! I’m just… I’m—“

“Oh, Merlin. There _is_ someone else, isn’t there?”

Rose shook her head. “No.”

“There is!” He dragged a hand though his hair and looked wildly around, like there might be evidence of someone else in the room. “Who is it? If not Weasley, then who?”

“There’s no one!” she insisted.

“Don’t lie now, Rose,” he said harshly. “There’s no point.”

“Cedric, it doesn’t matter—“

“Weasley’s the only other person you ever liked— Wait. Oh, Merlin. It’s _Malfoy_ , isn’t it?”

Rose froze, and felt the horror of knowing all her secrets were laid bare on her face, and Cedric was reading them all.

“Seriously, Rose? Malfoy? He’s a Death Eater.”

Rose looked away, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Her fingernails dug into her arms.

“Merlin,” he swore. “How long?”

“What?” 

“How long have you felt this way?” he asked. “Have you had feelings for him this whole time? Ever since we started dating? Before that, even? I know you liked him during the tournament.”

Rose mouthed wordlessly, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say, because the horrible answer to that question was yes.

Cedric swore. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Did you ever have any feelings for me at all? Or was I just a distraction? Or a way to make him jealous?”

“No, Cedric!” she said. “Of course not!”

“Then what the hell, Rose!”

“I can’t help it!” she cried, throwing her arms in the air. The whole situation felt blown to hell, and Rose felt like she had been backed up to the edge of a cliff. And Draco was— “It’s always been him! Always! I’ve tried and tried, and I know it’s useless! I know it’s impossible, and reckless, and _stupid_. I know he’s about six inches away from being evil, but I can’t help it! It’s always been him!”

Cedric looked gutted, and laughed hollowly. “Oh. You’re in love with _him_. I see.”

Rose felt wretched.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. 

“He’s closer to being evil than you know, Rose,” Cedric said. His handsome face was twisted with hurt and pity. “He’s all Snape reports on in Order meetings these days. Did you know he’s You Know Who’s new favorite?”

Cold fear swept through Rose. “What?” she breathed.

“Snape says that Malfoy is with You Know Who every day. Do you know what they talk about? I bet you can guess.”

Rose swallowed, and shook her head in denial. “No.”

No one had said a word to her about Draco. Not Sirius or Remus. Not Fred or George, or Bill and Fleur. She had hoped that no news was good news. She had hoped that he had managed to find a way out of it. She had hoped she would find him on September first unharmed and unmarked.

She had never, not even in her darkest thoughts, imagined this.

“They talk about you,” Cedric said. “Malfoy is helping him. He’s telling him everything he knows about you. Everything. He’s helping him find a way to kill you.”

“No. He wouldn’t,” she said. “He promised he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”

Cedric shook his head. “He lied.”

Rose felt her stomach lurch. Draco with a Dark Mark. She felt like she was going to be sick, and pressed her palms to her stomach.

“Merlin,” Cedric said. “You’re so… How did I not see it before? I didn’t have a shot at all, did I?”

“Cedric,” she began, but couldn’t find the words. She had tried. She had tried _so hard_ to love Cedric best, because Cedric was the sensible choice. Any girl with a brain in her head would choose Cedric. He was handsome, brave, and good. He had never given Rose cause to doubt him, and she was certain that he never would, but her heart just wasn’t in it. 

The truth was impossible to deny now. Even now, with the news of Draco’s betrayal so fresh, she couldn’t help but think that Draco had been forced. He might have, through fear for himself or his family, have been made to betray her, but Rose could not believe that Draco had wanted to. She couldn’t believe that he would say one word about her to Voldemort without feeling sick over it. Because Draco loved her.

Draco _loved her_.

He did.

He’d said so.

She held onto this thought as tightly as she could.

Cedric shook his head in denial. “Merlin. I don’t—“ He shook his head again. “I can’t even look at you.” He fumbled for the doorknob and let himself out.

Rose slid off the edge of the bed, and sunk until she was on the floor, feeling sick and hating herself. The coverlet dragged down with her movements, and a shower of petals fell over her shoulders. She looked around at her pathetic attempt at seduction, her pathetic attempt to wipe Draco Malfoy from her heart once and for all, and sighed.

She was glad it hadn’t worked.

:: :: :: ::

“ _Sources close to Cedric Diggory report that Rose Potter has chucked the future Auror for another man!_ ” Ginny read aloud from the Daily Prophet two days later, while the three girls were sitting around the library with their dark arts books.

“ _Potter and Diggory have been an item since January of this year. When the two were photographed on a romantic outing on Valentine’s Day, many readers of this column were certain that wedding bells would be in their future._ _Indeed, this writer had hoped that the stable influence of Diggory (Hogwarts Head Boy and Triwizard Champion) would curb Rose’s wilder tendencies, but perhaps Wild Rose has grown bored._

_“Who is Rose’s new beau? The wizarding world is rife with speculation!_

_“Unconfirmed reports indicate she could be resuming her romance with George Weasley. The two were involved in a relationship last year until Weasley broke it off, presumably due to Rose’s scandalous antics last summer, which were comprehensively reported on by this author. Weasley is now the successful co-owner of the immensely popular Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with his twin brother, Frances. The duo opened the shop in May, and it was pronounced an ‘instant success.’ No doubt Weasley’s new riches are quite a draw for Potter, who lives a lavish lifestyle. But if not Weasley, then who? Rose Potter, Cedric Diggory, and George Weasley could not be reached for comment._ ” Ginny threw the paper onto the table. The pages slid off the table, and flew everywhere.

“What. the. hell,” Ginny said.

Rose tipped back in her chair, and blew out a long breath. “Well, I—“

“Did you really break up with Cedric?” Ginny demanded.

Rose sighed. “It started that way, but I’m pretty sure he dumped me.”

“Why would you do that?” Ginny yelled. “He’s perfect!”

Rose groaned. “Ugh. I know!”

“He’s gorgeous!”

Rose nodded.

“Two days ago you were trying to get him to have sex with you!”

“Ginny!” Rose screeched. She flicked her wand at the parlor door, and it slammed shut. “Sirius could be downstairs!”

“Argh!” Ginny said. “What is wrong with you!”

“Rose, Ginny…” Hermione said.

“Everything!” Rose retorted.

“Obviously!”

“Rose,” Hermione said. “Ginny.”

“I can’t believe you _hid_ over in Royal Crescent for _two days_ , and didn’t even bother to tell us that you’d broken up with your boyfriend!” Ginny said. “I had to read about it in the newspaper! Like everyone else!”

“I was mourning!” Rose yelled.

“Oh, please,” Ginny scoffed.

“I was!”

“You don’t look sad at all! You just look guilty! What did you do this time?”

“What do you mean, this time?!” Rose demanded.

“You do have a history of cheating on your boyfriends,” Hermione pointed out.

Rose gasped in affront. “I never—“

“You did so!” Ginny said. “You kissed Cedric while you were with George, and don’t think I haven’t noticed your crush on Draco Malfoy has resumed for some _absurd_ reason. So, Rose, _what did you do?_ ”

“Nothing!” Rose got to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. She debated leaving the room, but Ginny would just follow her, and then they’d be having this conversation in the hallway.

“Rose,” Hermione said. “Just tell us.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Nothing?” Ginny said. “No letters? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ginny said.

“Rose,” Hermione said sternly. And Rose crumpled like tissue paper. 

“Before school let out, Draco and I talked,” she admitted.

Ginny screeched like an angry cat. “You _conversed_ with that little—“

“He apologized!” Rose said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, Merlin, Rose,” she said. “You’re hopeless.”

“He apologized _very well!_ ” Rose said. “He was really upset, because I’d died. He explained everything, and said he was sorry. Then he told me that he loves me.”

They were quiet. Ginny gaped wordlessly, and Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. Ginny turned to Hermione, and grabbed her arm in desperation. 

“Hermione,” Ginny said, pleadingly.

Hermione nodded at her, and turned to Rose. She adopted a this-is-for-your-own-good expression, “Now, Rose—“

“You don’t understand!” Rose said. “You weren’t there. He was…” she gestured helplessly. “He was—“

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Ginny said.

“Rose, you cannot be thinking of giving Draco Malfoy a second chance,” Hermione said. 

“Second!” Ginny protested. “More like a fourth or fifth! Hasn’t he let you down enough! Hasn’t he shown you what an arsehole he really is? What else does he have to do to you before you give up on him?”

“But he didn’t _mean_ any of those things he said,” Rose said.

“Rose, you do know how that sounds, right?” Hermione said.

“Like a battered girlfriend,” Ginny said scornfully. “Are you really going to keep letting that bastard hurt you?”

“It was fake! His father told him that he had to hide his feelings for me, and so he came up with a plan for us to have a public falling out, and he wanted me to be in on it with him. He wanted us to plan it together. Only he wasn’t talking to me— he was talking to Umbridge disguised as me! So she told him to go away, and he took it badly, and then—“

“And then he went through with it anyway!” Ginny said. “How is that okay?”

“He had to!” Rose said. “Voldemort—“

“Oh, You Know Who,” Ginny said, throwing her hands dramatically in the air. “A nice excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse!”

“What other lies did he feed you, Rose?” she asked derisively. “Did he also tell you that he’d break it off with Pansy Parkinson for you? They’re still betrothed, you know!”

“What?”

Ginny dropped her face into her hands. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He and Pansy are betrothed?”

“It’s just a rumor,” Hermione said. “But a common one. I don’t know how you never heard it.”

Ginny got to her feet, and put her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “I want you to listen to me,” she said, “because what I am about to say is the truth, and you need to hear it.”

“Ginny…” Rose protested.

“Listen to me, Rose!” Ginny shook her a little, and Rose rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Fine.”

Ginny waited until Rose looked her in the eye, and she said, “You are _blind_ when it comes to Malfoy, and for the life of me I can’t understand why, because he doesn’t deserve you. He is no good for you. He is a mean, jealous boy, with a vicious tongue, and you can do _so much better_.”

Rose looked away. “Are you done.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Well, I’m done listening,” Rose snapped, and knocked Ginny’s hands off her shoulders. “Now you two listen. I know you don’t like him. I know you hate him for what he did to me last year, and I appreciate that you care about me, I do, but none of that was _real_. He didn’t mean any of the things he said. The only true thing Draco Malfoy said to me last year was that he was sorry, and that he loves me—“

“He _loves_ you?” Ginny demanded. “What kind of person shows their love that way? How could you believe him? Merlin, those Muggles did a number on you!”

Rose tensed like someone had yanked on her spine. “We are _not_ talking about the Dursleys,” she snapped. “Not _ever_.”

Ginny flinched, and she held out her hands. “All right. Fine. But Rose—“

“No. I’m done!” Rose said, slashing a hand through the air. “Cedric and I broke up, end of story. And if you don’t like Draco, then fine, but keep it to yourselves. I don’t want to hear it.”

She stormed from the library, and slammed the door shut behind her. She stomped through the kitchen, and Flooed home. Royal Crescent was empty, and she stomped up to her bedroom, and went mindlessly into her bathroom, where she decided that she would draw herself a bath. She viciously turned the taps, squeezed too much bubble bath into the tub, and suddenly the anger was just too much. She threw the bottle at the wall with a scream, and when it failed to cause enough destruction— stupid plastic— grabbed another bottle and another and threw them all at the wall until she ran out.

She covered her face with her hands, and slumped on the edge of the tub, anger drained away.

What if Ginny was right? she wondered.

Rose sat there until the tub filled, and reached over to turn off the taps. She eyed the mounds of bubbles, and with a sigh, slid into the tub, clothes and all.


	19. Year Six, Part 4

:: :: :: ::

Rose hadn't been allowed to attend George and Fred's party for the grand opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, so she was excited to get to see it now during her trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. Unfortunately, the trip was made under heavy Auror guard. Going out in public these days she felt like the Queen. She had a security detail who cleared the area before she was allowed to enter. They spoke to each other over a portable Floo network, putting their lips to the green flames over silver cigarette lighters, and worst of all, she had a code name. They called her 'Princess.'

But, as Hermione calmly reminded her when she got upset over it, she _was_ number one on Voldemort's hit list.

Rose waited with Hermione, Ginny and Tonks in the Leaky Cauldron while the security team swept Diagon Alley, and went over their booklists for the hundredth time.

"You should get the book for Potions anyway," said Hermione.

"I didn't get a high enough score on my OWL's, 'Mione," Rose reminded her. "Snape won't let me in with an E."

"He might change his mind," she said.

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Do you know a different Professor Snape, then? Because the one I know—"

"Fine," Hermione said. "I just thought you still wanted to be an Auror."

Rose waved a hand negligently. "I don't know what I want." The future seemed far away. Voldemort was too close for her to give much consideration to what she would do after. If there was an after.

They got the word that all was clear for 'Princess' to enter Flourish and Blotts, so the group went off to get their books. It took most of the morning to get books, potions ingredients for Hermione and Ginny, owl treats for Hedwig and cat food for Crookshanks, and it was after lunch before they got to Madam Malkins.

A man with a portable Floo to his mouth ushered Rose into the shop, and she blinked in astonishment at what she saw. Draco was on the stool at the back, just like during her first trip to Diagon Alley when she met him for the first time. His mother was in a chair, leisurely looking over Draco's book list. Rose was shocked she'd been allowed to enter, as Draco and his mother were the immediate family of Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater. But Rose was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and hurried to the back of the shop.

"Draco."

His eyes met hers in the mirror, and he stared at her for a moment like she was a mirage in the desert, but then his face drained of color, and he looked like he might be sick. He looked away, cleared his throat and said to Madam Malkin, "I think the hem needs to be taken down a bit."

Rose bit back a sigh, and turned to his mother instead. "Hello, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Hello, Miss Potter," said Narcissa. She looked between Rose and Draco, and as her eyes lingered on her son they flickered with worry.

"Draco, I need to talk to you," Rose said.

He was silent for a long moment, just looking at her face in the mirror, and then said, "No."

"No?" she echoed with disbelief.

He stepped off the pedestal, and said, "Mother, I don't think I want these anymore." He pulled the robes off and dropped them onto the empty chair beside his mother. Madam Malkin squawked, fetching the robes up.

He came closer, close enough to whisper, and said, "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me this year. I mean it, Rose."

"I just want to talk—"

"No," he said fiercely. "I don't want you to talk to me, I don't want you to see me, I don't want you to have anything to do with me, Rose Potter. Stay away from me." He looked, for just an moment, like he did that afternoon in Myrtle's bathroom. Hopeless and miserable.

"Draco," Rose pleaded. "Let me help you."

He looked ill again, and swallowed hard, and then he brushed past her without another word. His mother followed him out of the shop with a cool, polite nod at Rose, and another to her little entourage.

Ginny glared at their backs, and as soon as the door swung shut behind them she turned on Rose.

"Do you see?" Ginny demanded. "Do you see how he treats you? How is that okay?"

Rose faced her, and snapped, "How do you not see what's happening here? He needs help! Open your eyes!"

"You're the one who needs to open her eyes!" Ginny said. "He just _threatened_ you!"

"He warned me!" Rose yelled. "That was a warning!"

Ginny looked like she was ready to tear her own hair out. " _If you know what's good for you you'll stay away from me!_ " Ginny quoted. "How is that not a threat? He's a Death Eater, Rose! He's working for _Tom_."

"He's being coerced!" Rose screeched. "Voldemort is making him!"

Madam Malkin squeaked at the mention of the name. Rose ignored her.

"He's making him go _school_ _shopping?_ " said Ginny. "Right. He looks real endangered, Rose!"

They glared at each other, and Rose was inches away from drawing her wand, and hexing her best friend.

"All right," Hermione said quietly. "That's enough."

It was like cold water had been thrown over both of them.

"Ginny, stay with Tonks. Rose, come with me," Hermione said, and dragged Rose to the fitting room. "Sit," she commanded, pointing at the stool in the corner. "Breathe."

Rose did as she was told, trying to calm her anger.

"She makes me so mad sometimes," Rose said.

"You make her angry, too," Hermione said.

"I know."

"She's just concerned about you," Hermione said. "We both are."

"Hermione," Rose said, "he's not what you think he is…"

Hermione sighed. "Maybe not. Maybe you're right. But Ginny and I have only seen the many and varied ways he hurt you last year, and we both hated watching it. I don't want him to hurt you anymore, and I know Ginny doesn't either."

"He won't—"

"Not even emotionally?" Hermione asked. "He told you that he loves you, and I think it got you really twisted up. All you have is his word, and Rose—"

"Hermione—"

"It's not enough. He really needs to prove himself here. Don't you see that? Don't you see that this could just be a ploy?"

"To what?" Rose said incredulously. "To lure me…to…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Exactly what you're thinking right now. That's what Ginny and I are afraid of happening. We're afraid that he's going to lead you to your death, and you'll go along happily just because he asked you to go."

Rose looked away from Hermione's concerned face, and studied her fingers in her lap. She had no idea what to say.

"He wouldn't do that," she said, voice wavering.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe not, but please, Rose, please be careful. You can't trust him just because he said he loves you."

:: :: :: ::

The showroom of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was too crowded with customers for Rose's security team's comfort, so they led her around to the back door. Hermione and Ginny had no such restrictions, and were up front, leaving Rose with George in the back, with Tonks standing guard at the door between the shop front and the workroom.

Rose didn't yet know what the front of the shop looked like, but the twins workroom had a magic of it's own. The floors were dusty and showed evidence of recent explosions, five separate cauldrons were bubbling away along the back wall, and a long work table was scattered with papers covered in diagrams and doodles, bits of rotten poetry, and half finished recipes. Nearer to the shop door there were shelves reaching the ceiling, filled with colorful boxes and items waiting to be put out on the shop floor. It looked every inch the mad scientist's laboratory it was.

George was letting her go through the boxes of inventory, pointing out things of particular interest as she went.

Rose pointed to a box on the shelf which read, 'Edible Dark Marks! They'll make anyone sick.' "Why would someone buy something that would just make them sick?" she asked, laughing.

"It's not a top seller, but it's good for a laugh," said George. "Plus, they're brilliant! Look." He unwrapped the Edible Dark Mark, and showed Rose.

"It looks like a Fruit Winder." She took the 'sweet' in her fingers and unrolled it to reveal a large Dark Mark in the center of the candy. "What does it taste like?"

"Give it a try," George leered.

"And be sick? I don't think so."

George took it back and rewrapped it. "I'll give it to Ron," he said with a wicked grin.

After awhile, the Aurors decided it was safe enough for Rose to visit the front of the shop, and she dove into the crazy mess with glee. The shop was wonderful. There were people everywhere, laughing and sometimes screaming with delight. She wandered around to the front of the shop where Ginny was cooing over a cage of brightly colored balls of fluff.

"They're called Pygmy Puffs," said Ginny, sticking her fingers through the bars to gently pat a purple ball of fluff. "Aren't they the cutest things you've seen in your whole entire life? I want one."

Ginny looked around for witnesses, and finding none, began to fiddle with the cage door. A discreet spell and it popped open, and Ginny had the purple fluffy thing in her hands. She brought it up to eye level and cooed at it. "I'm going to take you home, yes I am," she said to the puff.

Rose looked up, and a flash of white blond caught her eye. Draco was walking past the front of the shop, looking over his shoulder in a shifty manner.

There was really no question of what she was going to do next. She pulled her invisibility cloak from where she'd hidden it in her bag, and pulled it over her shoulders.

"Cover for me, Gin," she said.

Ginny looked up in alarm. "Where did you go— oh, no, Rose, don't you fucking dare!"

But Rose was already gone.

:: :: :: ::

Rose slipped out the front door unnoticed, and then she was out in Diagon Alley, invisible under her father's cloak. She walked as fast as she dared after Draco, following him into Knockturn Alley, mindful of her feet showing under the hem.

Knockturn Alley was long and winding, like a maze. The windows of most of the shops were covered over with grime, or completely dark, though signs on them read 'Open.' She wondered what kind of business Draco was planning to do here.

He eventually stopped at a shop called Borgin and Burkes. The door shut behind him, and she wouldn't have dared try to follow him in. She would have been caught for sure. She peered through the grimy window, and saw Draco gesturing emphatically to an oily little man who must be the shop owner. Rose crept to the door and pushed it open a fraction with her toe. Voices floated to her and she heard:

"...you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly. I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't. It's got to stay put," Draco said. "I just need you to tell me how to fix it."

"Without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Draco said, and his voice had taken on that dangerous quality that Rose so disliked. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

Rose peered through the gloom, watching as Draco was blocked from view by a large cabinet. She couldn't see what he was showing to the shop owner, but she could see the shop owner's face. He looked terrified.

"Tell anyone and there will be retribution," Draco said coldly. "You know Fenrir Greyback?" Rose's eyes widened in alarm. "He's an old family friend," Draco continued. "He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention, Borgin."

"There will be no need for—"

"Draco, _sweetie_ ," Rose found herself saying after tearing away the cloak, and throwing open the door. "Are you about done in here?"

Draco's eyes went wide, and then narrowed dangerously. He glared at her, and Borgin looked shocked.

"You promised me we'd go to Quality Quidditch," Rose said impatiently. "And so far all the shopping I've done is-"

"Be with you in a minute, _love_ ," Draco bit off though clenched teeth. "Keep that one safe, Borgin. I'll be back for it." He swept over to Rose, his eyes hard as ice chips, grabbed her upper arm tightly, and towed her out the door.

"What are you up to?" Rose hissed, when they were in the street, and the door had shut behind them. "Fenrir Greyback?! What the hell, Draco?!"

Rose knew perfectly well who Fenrir Greyback was. He was the psychotic werewolf who had bit Remus when he was just a child. Rose held a special place of hate in her heart just for the _idea_ of Fenrir Greyback, and to hear Draco use his name, use it like he would associate with such a person — she was livid.

"Shut up," he hissed back. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_."

"No!"

He pulled her into a dark, cramped alley between two shops. "What were you thinking, following me?! You were safe with your Auror guard. Merlin, do you have any idea of how many people are looking for a chance like this? People who want you dead?"

"What were _you_ thinking? Fenrir Greyback?! What are you up to? What are you having Borgin help you fix? Tell me!"

He shut his eyes, like he couldn't believe she had heard all of that. He shook his head. "It's none of your business, and I thought I told you to stay away from me!"

"I won't," Rose said. "I'm going to find out what you're up to. If it's Voldemort, Draco, I can help you!"

Draco laughed humorlessly, and pressed his palms to his eyes. His sleeves slipped down his arms. "You can help me?" he laughed. "Rose, come on!"

Rose grabbed his arms, pulled them away from his face, "I won't let you do anything bad. I _won't_. I won't let you do that to yourself—" She frowned, and looked down at Draco's left arm. It was sticky under her fingers.

"Don't—" he said, and tried to pull his arm back, but Rose wrenched his wrist in sudden, horrible understanding, and gasped at the Dark Mark, inky black and completely revolting on the skin of Draco's forearm. She felt like she had been punched.

"No," she said, voice weak and wavering. She pressed her thumbs to it, rubbing hard like if she got out soap and water she could scrub it off like it was just ink and not— the skull moved under her fingers. Slipped.

Rose temper flared hot, and she let out an indignant shout, peeled the Wheezes Edible Dark Mark from Draco's skin, and threw it in his face. "You arsehole!"

He pulled the sweet from his face, and it tore away strands of his fine blond hair. "Ow. Fucking hell, Rose."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she demanded. "You didn't have to put that on your skin! You didn't have to make me think He'd _marked_ you. Why would you— oh, to convince Borgin to help you. You've got _money_ , Draco," she snarled. "You could have just paid him!"

"I couldn't have just paid him," he hissed back. "I needed to be sure that he'd—" He snapped his mouth shut, and closed his eyes. "Go away, Rose. Please, go away."

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco took a deep breath, then another. He opened his eyes, and gently pushed her away. "You need to stay away from me. You don't know what I've done," he said. "You wouldn't be here if—"

Rose grabbed his hand. "I do, though," she said. "I know."

"No, you—"

"Draco." She clutched his hand, and tried to express that 'she knew' without actually saying it. Because she couldn't come out and say, see, we've got a spy in your house, and he's been reporting on what you've been doing, and it's got back to me. It would put Snape in danger if Voldemort used Legilimency on Draco to find out what she said. " _I know_ ," she repeated.

He stared at her for a moment, realization dawning, and then guilt flooded his expression, and he crumpled, clutching her hand. He shook his head in denial and said, "I promised. I promised you I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, but he would have hurt my parents."

"I know you didn't want to," Rose said, and Draco nodded over their joined hands, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"—m' sorry," he breathed, like he didn't dare say it any louder. "Merlin. He's going to know that this happened. He's going to know that you were with me, and what you said."

"I know," she said. But maybe Voldemort wouldn't notice their slips if she did something distracting… something she wanted to do anyway. She rocked up on her toes, and pressed her lips to Draco's. He startled badly, pulling back so hard he bounced off the wall, eyes wild and full of questions.

"Shut up," she said, though he hadn't spoken. She crowded close, and kissed him again, not giving him an inch to escape.

Voldemort was going to use Legilimency on Draco to see their meeting, and if Rose had it her way this kiss was all Draco was going to be able to think about, and thus all Voldemort would see. Hopefully, he wouldn't want to look too closely.

She pressed herself against him, close as she could get with their hands still locked together between them, and brushed his lips with her tongue.

"Fuck," he said, disarmed, like the situation had gotten completely out of hand, and he was just giving up. Rose bit his bottom lip, pointedly. "Fuck." He disconnected their hands, and brought both of his palms up to cup her face, and took control of the kiss. He walked her back into the opposite wall, plundering her mouth with hot sweeps of his tongue, biting and sipping at her lips like he couldn't get enough - like he would never get enough. Rose whimpered and clung, her hands wrapped around his wrists, keeping him close.

When they broke for air, Draco pressed their foreheads together.

"That shouldn't have happened," he said.

"Shut up," she said. "Just shut up."

Draco groaned a complaint, and kissed her again.

"Don't tell me to shut up," he said.

"Don't say such stupid things," she countered.

He huffed a laugh, and they stared at each other from less than an inch away. He was so handsome, and Rose couldn't even fathom that she had gone sixteen years without kissing this boy. She should have started the moment they met in Madam Malkins, and never stopped. Her heart skipped, and she had the thought that she loved every wonderful and terrible inch of him.

"We can save you," she whispered.

He chuckled like she was being _adorable_ \- like she was a kitten threatening a cobra - but his eyes looked lighter than they had before, and so Rose grinned like she was baring her teeth, and dug her fingers into his side until he squirmed and bit down on a laugh.

"Don't doubt me," she said, and he kissed her in apology. "If you come with me right now—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "My father is with them. If my mother and I were to go missing, they'd kill him."

That stymied Rose. A part of her was perfectly willing to sacrifice Lucius Malfoy for Draco, but apparently that wasn't an option. "We could send someone for him?"

Draco snorted. "Which of your people would be willing to go up against the Dark Lord for my father?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

No one, Rose was sure. Frankly, she would have trouble selling the idea of saving Draco and Narcissa, and they were not confirmed Death Eaters.

"I'm sure there's something we can do," she said.

"There isn't," said Draco. "Trust me, I've thought about this a lot."

Rose sighed, and held onto him for a moment. She didn't like this. Not one bit. The thought of letting him go back to Voldemort made her feel sick.

"He's going to let you come to Hogwarts, isn't he?"

Draco made a face, and swallowed. "Oh, he wouldn't let me miss that."

"All right, good." Rose was relieved. He would be safe at Hogwarts. "Just keep yourself safe until then. And you can tell him anything about me, I don't care. Just… don't let him hurt you."

"I've tried to keep some things back. Important things," said Draco. "Things you might not want him to know."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Nothing he can learn about me will help him, because this 'power' I have, the one that the _dark-lord-knows-not_ \- he'll never understand it. He wouldn't even recognize it, not even if it was staring him in the face."

"Then there is something?" Draco looked at her like he'd never seen anything like her before. "The power he's looking for… it exists?"

Rose gave him a small smile, and shrugged her shoulders, like it was nothing for him to worry about. Instead she simply said, "I love you, too, you know."

Draco's expression slowly transformed to one of incredulous happiness and disbelief, and she kissed his smiling mouth.

"I've got to go back before they find out I'm gone," she said. "Close your eyes. Don't watch me leave."

He closed his eyes. He looked a million times happier than he had at the robe shop. Rose swung the invisibility cloak over her shoulders. "Be careful," she said, and pressed one last kiss to his mouth before pulling up the hood. She took one look back at the mouth of the alley, watched him look around to find her gone. He tipped his head up to the sky, and smiled.

:: :: :: ::

There was hell to pay when Rose got back to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Her security team was in a tizzy, and Ginny was red faced and furious. She was standing in front of Tonks, who seemed to be grilling Ginny for information. Ginny was making tight, violent gestures with her hands. Hermione was beside them, looking anxious.

"Shit," said Rose.

The Aurors flipped out when she pulled the invisibility cloak off. They mobbed her, like she would disappear again.

Tonks elbowed her way though, and took Rose's arm. "I'll take her home now," she said. The others nodded, and Tonks hustled her into the back.

The work room was empty, and Tonks took hold of Rose's arm to Side Along Apparate. Tonks was clearly angry, but quiet, and it made Rose uncomfortable.

"Aren't you going to yell at me?" said Rose.

Tonks shook her head. "I'm going to let Sirius do that, as you seem to care what he thinks. I doubt my yelling at you will make a difference."

"I had to—"

"I'm sure you thought it was important," said Tonks. "But you went off on your own, when all these people are dedicated to keeping you safe. It's our job to protect you, and you gave no thought to how your disappearance today will affect any of us, because we couldn't keep an eye on you we'll all likely be reprimanded. I might even be suspended, because I was the one who pushed for you to be able to visit Diagon Alley like any normal Hogwarts student. To say nothing of what might have happened to you. Merlin knows where you went."

"I'm sorry," said Rose, feeling about a foot tall.

"It doesn't matter, Rose. Even now I'm sure you'd do it again. As much as I like you, I can't trust you. Next time we won't give you such leeway."

The trip home was chilly, and when they arrived at Grimmauld Place Tonks left her standing alone in the foyer, and went up to the attic to fetch Remus.

Remus came down without Tonks, and only said, "Parlor," when he saw her standing there. Rose followed him in. "Sit," he said shortly, and Rose sat. Remus paced in front of the settee, and Rose crossed her arms.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"I—"

"Merlin," said Sirius, flying through the doorway. "What happened?" He stopped short in front of her. "You look all right. You weren't hurt?"

Rose shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Thank Merlin for that. Why those Aurors can't keep track of one teenage girl, I'll never understand."

"Because she used the bloody invisibility cloak, and ditched them, that's why," said Remus.

Sirius started, as though he didn't realize Remus was there. He stared for a moment, and maybe it registered that Remus looked livid. His expression went from concerned to careless in a moment.

"Seems like shoddy security work, if you ask me," said Sirius, arching an eyebrow.

Rose could actually see Remus's hackles go up. He bristled. "Rose deliberately ran off! Without telling anyone where she was going or why! They were frantic."

"Aren't we paying these people to keep track of her? To keep her safe?" said Sirius.

"She shouldn't have ran off in the first place!" said Remus. "She knows better!"

"Well, I'm sure she had a bloody good reason," said Sirius.

They looked at Rose. She opened her mouth, and looked between them. She hesitated. "I saw someone."

"Who?" said Remus.

"Someone I wanted to talk to."

"What, and owls are too good for you now?" said Sirius, and with that she'd lost her ally, and she hadn't even said yet who she went off to see.

Remus crossed his arms over his chest. "Who was it, Rose?"

Rose looked at her shoes, and murmured, "Draco Malfoy." She had spoken very quietly, but as they both had excellent canine hearing, they understood her anyway.

They both stilled.

"Are you sure you are all right?" said Sirius. "Did he hurt you? Did he try to—"

"I'm fine! Of course he didn't hurt me!"

"What do you mean 'of course?'" said Sirius. "The boy is dangerous - more than you know!"

"Oh, I know!" said Rose. "Cedric told me! I don't know why neither of you told me what Snape was reporting on in Order meetings, but I found out. And when I saw him in Diagon Alley I had to find out for sure."

Remus rubbed his eyes.

"How was I to know you still cared? You were dating the Diggory kid up until a few days ago!" said Sirius. "So far as I knew, you didn't like the Malfoy kid anymore, and thank Merlin for that, because I told you the Malfoys are bad news, and I was right!"

"You weren't right though!" said Rose. "He's not bad news! Voldemort is forcing him! He's threatened to hurt his parents, and Draco's got no other choice—"

"Is that what he told you?" said Remus.

"He wasn't lying!"

"He could be playing an angle," said Sirius. "Gaining your trust in order to—"

"Then why didn't he do anything today?" yelled Rose. "He could have killed me, or taken me to Voldemort, or given me over to Death Eaters, but he didn't! He was just as mad at me for ditching the Aurors as you are!"

Sirius sighed, and rubbed his face with his hands. Remus frowned down at her.

"I don't suppose grounding you would make any difference," Remus said.

"Seeing as I'm permanently grounded," said Rose, "no, I don't imagine it would." Just for safety reasons she never went anywhere that wasn't Royal Crescent or Grimmauld Place. There wasn't much else they could do to her.

"Well, if you're handing down punishments," Sirius said to Remus, "that must mean you still want to be involved in our lives."

Everyone went still and quiet. Rose gaped, horrified at Sirius, and then looked at Remus's stricken expression. She couldn't believe she was being put in the middle of this. Again.

Remus looked dangerous for a moment. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"You know damn well what I want."

"My intention was not to leave the two of you," said Remus.

"Then why did you bloody _leave_ —"

"Oh, I don't know, Sirius," he said, "can you recall a reason that might make me want to take a moment to myself?"

"Don't be like that, Moony," said Sirius. "And how much time do you need anyway? The answer is either yes or no, it's not _hard_."

"Oh, Merlin," said Rose, and put her head in her hands. The adults ignored her.

"You knocked a Bludger at me, Sirius!" said Remus. "I needed time to think!"

"About what?"

"About whether I can trust you."

Sirius was silent for one long, dangerous moment. "Trust me? Why in the seven hells wouldn't you trust me? I was _falsely_ imprisoned! You do know that, right?"

"Of course, I know that. I wasn't talking about that," Remus said impatiently. "I was talking about the other thing."

"The other thing—" Sirius said with a derisive twist. "The thing where I said I'm in love with you, and you ran away. That awkward erumpent in the room."

"Yes, that. Because I trusted you with my heart once before, and you broke it."

Rose sunk lower in her seat, and tried to become invisible. It was hard without an invisibility cloak or a disillusionment charm.

"I— what?" Sirius gobsmacked was rather hilarious, or would be under other, less awkward circumstances.

"I was completely mad about you back then, Sirius," said Remus. "Completely. And then James and Lily… and Rose was gone, and if that wasn't bad enough, I thought you'd—" he swallowed. "I thought you'd been responsible, and it completely shattered me."

Sirius looked shattered now. "So you're holding me responsible now for something that _Peter_ did to all of us years ago."

"I know that it wasn't your fault," said Remus. "I know that, intellectually, but—"

"But you feel differently. You've just been waiting for me to let you down again," said Sirius, and he covered his eyes with a hand for a moment. "Great. That's wonderful. These past few years, I fell in love with you, and you've been waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Remus looked gutted, but didn't contradict him.

Sirius got to his feet, and Remus made no move to stop him. He walked to the door, but before his hand even touched the knob, Rose was on her feet and shouting.

"No!" she cried. "Stop it, both of you. Merlin, this is awful. Can we please go back to the part where you're both mad at me for running off? Because that was better!"

Neither of them said a word. Sirius was glaring at the door, and Remus had crossed his arms and was staring intently at the floor.

"You have to fix this, both of you, because I can't take it any more." They didn't protest, and so Rose went on. "Now, I will go home, because I am grounded, and I will send myself to bed without dinner—"

"You'll do no such thing. You will eat dinner," snapped Remus. "This is not the Dursleys, and that is not how we do punishments." Sirius nodded in firm agreement.

Agreement. That was progress.

Rose swallowed a lump, and nodded. "Okay, dinner then. But I will leave you two here to talk - talk without hurting each other. Please. I can't stand the two of you fighting. I especially can't stand it when I'm stuck in the middle of it. It's completely awkward. I adore you both, but for Merlin's sake."

"Rosie," warned Sirius, as she started to babble, but there was no stopping her now.

"You can yell at me later," she assured him. "I don't know what I'm meant to do here, because a part of me feels like I'm your daughter, and as your daughter I think this is so gross. I mean, you're both old, and practically my parents, and thinking about the two of you kissing is just - _ugh_."

"Flattering," Sirius murmured.

"And the other half of me feels like your best friend, and as your best friend I want to lock you together in a closet until you make up and start kissing."

Remus snorted, like it had been surprised out of him, and Sirius dared a glance at him, smile quirking his mouth.

Rose knew a good exit when she saw one. "Going home now," she chirped, and slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

No noises came from within, but Rose was hopeful.

:: :: :: ::

Rose only made it as far as the kitchen door before she was waylaid by someone else who wanted to yell at her. Ginny stood, arms crossed, still visibly fuming in front of the kitchen door. A purple Pygmy Puff was sitting on her shoulder beneath the curtain of her hair, colors clashing horribly, letting out a continuous anxious purr. Rose stopped short at the sight of her.

Ginny's glare intensified, and Rose winced.

"I have never been so mad at you as I was today," Ginny announced.

"I know, I saw you talking to Tonks."

"Don't you ever leave me behind again," said Ginny.

Not, 'don't wander off,' not, 'don't put yourself in danger.' Don't leave me behind. Rose felt a sudden upwelling of love for her best friend, and wondered when she could get off this emotional roller coaster. She threw herself at Ginny, and hugged her hard, eyes burning and a lump in her throat. Ginny let out an 'oomph,' at the impact, and then patted her back awkwardly.

"I won't," said Rose, choked.

"Merlin, don't _cry_ ," said Ginny, sounding exasperated. Rose detached with a little laugh, and wiped at her eyes. Ginny waited until she was sure Rose wasn't going to start leaking, and then nodded in approval.

"You left, and I was holding this little ball of fluff, and I swear, his purring was the only thing that kept me from going running out into the street after you, screaming."

Ginny took the Pygmy Puff from her shoulder, and held up the small ball of purple fur in her hand so Rose could see it better. Rose peered at it, and it purred as Ginny stroked a finger over it.

"He's called Arnold," said Ginny.

"Hello, Arnold," said Rose.

"I was so mad at you that I accidentally stole him."

"What?"

"In all the confusion, I forgot that I still had him, and I never paid Fred and George for him."

"You're a thief!" said Rose, laughing.

"Because you made me one!" said Ginny.

"Shoplifter!"

"Hush."

"Do you think the twins will press charges?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Best not tell them, then."

:: :: :: ::

Only one whooshing Floo sound came from the foyer, and Rose nearly let out a scream of frustration, because this was getting beyond annoying, but Sirius wandered into the kitchen, limbs loose and relaxed. He was wearing an idle smile and his eyes had lost the look of misery, and when he caught sight of her sitting on the counter, eating an enormous bowl of ice cream, he looked amused. He looked happier than she had seen him in weeks, months maybe, so she pressed her lips together and didn't say a word about not bringing Remus home with him.

"Is that what you call dinner?" Sirius asked.

"We didn't have anything else in," said Rose. "Besides, dessert is a meal too. Don't judge." She picked up the jar of caramel sauce at her side, and drizzled a bit more on top of the ice cream. One could never have too much caramel sauce.

Sirius smirked. "I suppose we should be glad for once that Remus isn't here to see this."

He fetched the ice cream from the chill box, and a spoon from the drawer, and proceeded to eat directly from the carton. Rose shook her head in idle dismay. She lived with cavemen, honestly. He leaned over, elbows on the countertop, and peered up at her.

Rose ate her ice cream in silence, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"So what happened?" she asked, finally.

Sirius shrugged, and Rose tried to kick him. He dodged, and grinned around his spoon. He dipped it back into the carton for another spoonful.

"We talked," he said. "It's not fixed or anything, but it's better. I think."

"Did you kiss him?"

He snorted. "If I did, why would I tell you?"

"You did!" she cried, delighted.

Sirius grinned. "Maybe."

"Oh, you are the worst, you giant gossip tease."

"It's not gossip, it's your godparents kissing. Isn't that disgusting to your teenage brain or something?"

"Completely gross," she agreed. "But I'm very invested in this relationship. My whole life depends on it working out."

Sirius smiled wryly, "But no pressure, right, Rosie?"

"No, there's all kinds of pressure, because if you two don't fix it I'm going to have to, and no one is going to enjoy that."

Sirius removed his elbows from the counter, and stood tall. He looked mildly alarmed.

"You're absolutely right," he said. "No one would enjoy that."


	20. Year Six, Part 5

:: :: :: ::

The Auror guard preceded Rose and her entourage onto Platform 9 3/4. As if her group of family and friends wasn’t large enough, her security detail has evolved into an entire _team_. Rose swore it doubled every time she went out in public. She waited with the others on the Muggle side for a few moments, tapping her foot impatiently, until she was waved through.

Four Aurors circled her - one on either side and in front and behind her - until she was safely on the train platform, and then they fanned out, taking up unobtrusive positions around Rose and her friends and family. She watched another group board the train to do a security sweep.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

“I don’t think they sent enough guards,” Sirius said, glaring around at the people in red Auror robes, and watching the other students and parents with a suspicious air.

“Are you kidding me,” Rose said flatly.

She understood why they were worried. Due to what happened at the Ministry with Voldemort and the prophecy Rose was number one on his hit list, but she was also, Rose thought, at the _bottom_ of his list. He wouldn’t attempt to kill her again until he knew that it wouldn’t backfire again. But try reasoning with this lot. So she accepted the security with as much grace as she could muster, because it made Sirius feel better.

"I still think we should have Tonks stay with you at school," he said.

"That would be a waste of Tonks's time and talents," Rose said. "Nothing is going to happen to me at school. You are over-reacting.”

“Oh, yeah?" Sirius said. "Last year you were _tortured and poisoned_ by a teacher. I am not over-reacting."

"Umbridge is in Azkaban," Rose reminded him. "She can't hurt me or anyone else anymore."

"Even so," Sirius said.

"Besides, there are still Aurors at school. I don't need one shadowing me."

"It would keep you out of trouble," Sirius said.

Rose grinned widely at this display of hypocrisy. “Since when do you care about me getting into trouble? You usually encourage it!"

"Yeah, well," Sirius grumbled. "Someone's got to be responsible..."

Rose swallowed a sigh. "Remus gave me a lecture," she said. “He told me to be safe and to behave myself.”

Sirius's face did something soft and pleased. "Good," he said. "Then I can tell you to have fun, kiddo. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Rose laughed. "Yeah? And what would that be?"

"It's a limited pool, I admit," Sirius said. "But all things you'd want to avoid."

Rose flung her arms around him and clung tightly. "I'll call on the mirror as often as I can," she said into his shoulder. "Please take care of yourself. Don't... don't mope too much." She meant, _‘Don’t drink so much. Don’t do anything stupid.’_

"Don't worry about me, Rosie," he said. "I'll be fine."

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, and really wished she could believe him.

:: :: :: ::

After everyone said their goodbyes, and Mrs. Weasley cried, right on cue, a stern faced Auror walked Rose personally onto the train, and into a compartment. He waited until she was safely inside, with her trunk stowed, then nodded gravely, and shut the door behind him.

Rose eyed the empty compartment, and wondered if he would guard the door, and prevent other students from entering, making Rose ride to Hogwarts alone. She would have to get this Voldemort thing cleared up soon just to save her social life.

But then the door slid open, and Ginny banged in, knocking her trunk off the door, her leg, the bench, before heaving it up onto the luggage rack. “Merlin,” she gasped, “I thought they’d never leave.” She flung herself down onto the seat next to Rose, and grinned.

“What are you doing?” Rose said.

“What?” Ginny said, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“Why are you here?”

“Kicking me out?”

“There is a boy somewhere on this train, who has been exchanging dirty letters with you all summer, so why aren’t you locked in a loo with him right this second?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’m playing hard to get.”

Rose snorted.

“Shut up.” Ginny elbowed her. “I can pull off hard-to-get.”

“Can not,” Rose said. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“Who said I was—“

“Draco isn’t going to talk to me where anyone can see,” Rose said. “It would get back to Voldemort, and he would be punished.”

Ginny’s light manner vanished in an instant, and she scowled darkly. “I’m staying. I’m going to keep you from doing something stupid, Rose Potter. So help me, I will—“

“You’ll what?”

Ginny glared - all Weasley temper and stubbornness, “He’ll get you killed, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”

“Gin—“

“You are my _best friend_ ,” Ginny snapped. Her cheeks were stained with angry red splotches, and she looked as fierce as Rose had ever seen her. “I am not going to sit idly by, and watch you get yourself killed for some vile, evil Slytherin. You want to get yourself killed, fine, you do it for a good reason, and whatever it is, _I will be right there beside you_ , but I’ll be damned if I do anything at Draco Malfoy’s side! He is not worth it!”

As angry as Rose had been with Ginny this past month, and as much as she disagreed with her regarding Draco Malfoy’s worthiness, she was so glad Ginny was her friend. Rose hugged Ginny hard, until she squeaked, and they both laughed.

“You should really go find Dean,” Rose said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I promise I’ll be fine, and I know you’re dying to.”

“ _Dying_ ,” Ginny agreed. She got to her feet, and mimed a full bodied swoon. “Merlin, Rose, you have no idea. The _things_ that boy wrote about…”

“I may have peeked,” Rose admitted. Ginny slapped her arm. “Filthy doesn’t quite cover it.”

“Not even close,” Ginny agreed. She climbed up on the seat to reach the luggage rack, and popped open her trunk. She stuck her hand inside, and blindly rooted around until she found a tube of lip balm. She applied the gloss and blew Rose a kiss, before tossing the tube back inside and slamming the trunk closed once more. “And you never saw my replies. They were works of pornographic art.”

“I may have also peeked—“

“You are the worst.”

“Go on,” Rose insisted. “Let me live vicariously through you.”

“Rose,” Ginny said with a saucy smirk, “I intended to do such things to that boy that not even you, living vicariously, will be a virgin when I’m done with him.”

“Oh my god, Ginny,” Rose said, succumbing to her blush. She covered her face with her hands and dissolved into giggles.

Ginny laughed, and blew her another kiss before leaving the compartment.

:: :: :: ::

Rose decided to go for a wander instead of waiting for people to come to her, and left the compartment. If nothing else, she might run into Hermione, who was off doing prefect things, and maybe Rose could follow Hermione around while she berated people who were breaking the rules. Rose liked watching other people feel Hermione’s wrath - though she didn’t much like it when Hermione used it on her.

Rose peered into compartments as she went, and noticed a disturbing trend. People would see her, and abruptly fall silent, and then they would stare at her until she passed. Conversation would start up again after she was out of sight, and she could hear them saying her name.

What was it _now?_

After scaring a compartment of second year Ravenclaws to death, Rose snagged the arm of the nearest passing Gryffindor, which happily happened to be Neville.

“Hello, Rose,” Neville said, startled.

“Hey, Nev,” she replied easily. “Have a good summer?”

“It was nice. I got this plant,” he held up a potted plant that looked vaguely like a lumpy cactus. “How was your summer?”

Neville’s new plant was one of the ugliest things she’d ever seen. But to each his own.

“My summer was all right. I was stuck at home for most of it. So, do you know why everyone is staring at me like I’ve grown tentacles?”

“Oh,” Neville said. He coughed into his fist, awkwardly. “I suppose it’s because you’re immortal?”

“Oh, that,” Rose said. “Old news people!” she called into the compartment of Ravenclaws. “Immortal. Honestly. You call yourselves Ravenclaws?”

She took Neville’s arm again, and said, “I don’t suppose you believe that tripe.”

“Well, you have done it twice now,” Neville pointed out. “Survived the Killing Curse, I mean.”

“I reckon he just wasn’t trying very hard,” Rose joked. “I got him all befuddled.”

“It’s just, it’s not the craziest thing they’ve ever printed in the Daily Prophet.”

Rose made a rueful face. “I suppose that’s true, but I’m not immortal, Neville. I’ve been assured that next time I die, it’s for good.”

Neville made a face. “You’ve been assured?”

“I have seen the face of death, and he’s a Slytherin asshole,” she intoned.

Neville looked not at all surprised.

“Excuse me?”

Rose turned to find a trembling third-year girl beside them. “I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Rose Potter.” She handed over two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Rose opened the one addressed to herself, while Neville did the same.

The note read:

> _Rose,_
> 
> _I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Professor H. E. F. Slughorn_

“Nice,” said Rose. “Free lunch.”

“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” asked Neville.

“New teacher.” Rose took Neville’s arm again, and tugged him in the direction of compartment C. “Let’s go.”

“But what does he want me for?” Neville asked nervously.

“I met him over the summer. He’s got a thing for famous or talented people. He likes to make connections, give his favorite students a leg up, that sort of thing.”

“But I’m not famous or talented,” Neville protested.

“You may not be famous, but you are talented, Neville,” Rose said. “You’re like the Hermione of Herbology.”

Neville looked pleased, but then he frowned again. “But I’m nothing like Hermione.”

Rose made a scoffing noise. “Geez, Neville, who could be? But you _are_ the best in our year at Herbology, and you are definitely Sprout’s favorite.”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on. I’ll distract him, and it will be fine.”

Neville allowed Rose to tow him to the compartment, and Rose saw they were not the only students Slughorn invited to lunch, but judging by how enthusiastically they were greeted, Rose was the most warmly anticipated.

“Rose, my dear girl,” said Slughorn, beaming at the sight of her.

“Good to see you again, Professor,” said Rose.

“And you must be Neville Longbottom!” said Slughorn. “Take a seat, take a seat.” He gestured at the last two empty seats across from each other, and Rose and Neville sat.

“Now, do you know everyone?” Slughorn asked Rose and Neville, as he proceeded to make introductions between the pair of Gryffindors, and Blaise Zabini, who Rose already knew quite well, and Cormac McLaggen, who was a seventh year Gryffindor

“Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course—“

“We are acquainted,” Rose said primly, and Zabini shocked her by smirking.

“We are indeed,” Zabini said, and grinned.

The last Rose had heard of Blaise Zabini was when he’d broken up with Ginny at the end of fourth year because she was a Weasley, and therefore a Blood Traitor. Blaise kept his head down last year during the Inquisitorial Squad shenanigans, and hadn’t done anything to Rose. She was a little shocked he was behaving in a friendly manner now though, especially since Voldemort was back, it was clear to everyone that he wanted her dead, and she was definitely persona non grata among the Death Eater’s families. Not that Blaise was from a Death Eater family necessarily, though for all Rose knew he could be. She didn’t know what Blaise’s political leanings were these days.

And then Blaise slid a look to Rose’s favorite red-head in the corner, and she abruptly knew what he was up to, and grinned back at him.

“This is Cormac McLaggen,” said Slughorn. “He’s a Gryffindor as well, perhaps you’ve come across each other—? No?” McLaggen gave a little wave. McLaggen had been the impetus for Rose’s break up with George, and maybe she still wasn’t completely over that, because she felt an urge to poke McLaggen in the eye.

“—And this is Marcus Belby, I don’t know whether—?”

Belby was thin and had a nervous look about him, gave a strained smile.

“—And this charming young lady tells me she knows you!” Slughorn finished.

Ginny was squashed in the corner behind Blaise. She made a face at Rose, which Rose took to mean that Ginny was Not Happy about sitting next to her ex-boyfriend in a teacher’s compartment on the train when she could be snogging Dean Thomas in the loo.

Slughorn looked very pleased by the turnout, and set them all up with plates and food. Rose would rather have liked a table.

After they were all situated, Slughorn began to grill Marcus Belby about his uncle, some wizard who Slughorn knew from way back when, and who had since been awarded the Order of Merlin, and Rose began to see that Slughorn was seeking new talent from the families he had already struck gold in, like tapping the veins in a gold mine, hoping to be led to another gold strike. When Belby admitted he didn’t see much of his uncle, because the man and his father didn’t get on, Slughorn quickly lost interest and turned to Cormac McLaggen.

Though Belby looked relieved to be off the chopping block, Rose thought it was rather rude of Slughorn.

It turned out that McLaggen was well connected. He knew the Minister of Magic and everything. Blaise turned out to have a famously beautiful mother, who was a bit of a Black Widow, though Slughorn wasn’t rude enough to say so. Neville’s parents had been well-known Aurors before Death Eaters tortured the couple into insanity. It was a very uncomfortable few minutes for everyone involved, and Rose got the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgement on Neville.

“And now,” said Slughorn, turning to Rose like a ringleader, and she was the main attraction at the circus. “Rose Potter! Where to begin? I feel as though I barely scratched the surface when we met this summer! ‘The Chosen One,’ they’re calling you now.”

“The Daily Prophet calls me many things, Professor,” said Rose. “Not much of it is complementary or true.”

“Immortal,” Neville blurted, and then pressed his lips together like he hadn’t meant to speak at all.

“Drug addled,” Blaise added.

“Scarlet woman,” Belby said.

“That’s an almost poetic way to call me a slut, Belby,” Rose said, and Belby flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks for that.”

“Easy,” Blaise offered with a teasing grin.

“Girl Who Lived to Party,” Ginny said.

“Only they didn’t call her a ‘girl,’” said Blaise. “The Daily Prophet called her a ‘slut.’”

“Well, now,” Slughorn said, hastily, as though this interview was getting away from him.

“Geez, Zabini, once you get started you just don’t stop, do you?” said Rose.

“Wild Rose,” said Cormac.

“I actually like that one,” Rose said with a smile. “It’s the most accurate.”

“Drunk,” said Blaise.

“Seriously, do you have an off switch?” said Rose. “Gin, poke him for me and see what happens.”

“Please do,” Blaise said, with a smirk at Ginny.

Ginny wrinkled her nose, and sat back with her arms crossed. “Not in a million years, Zabini.”

“Oh dear,” Slughorn chuckled uncomfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Blaise, who was smirking back. “You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady preform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn’t cross her!”

“Too late for that, sir,” said Zabini. “I’m well acquainted with that particular hex.”

“Oh, ho!” Slughorn said. “And what did you do to deserve such a punishment?”

There was an awkward silence, and then Ginny spoke, because Ginny was never any good at keeping quiet when she was angry.

“He called me a Blood Traitor, and then he broke up with me,” said Ginny with a bright, false smile. She got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I really cannot sit next to him any longer.” Ginny left the carriage in a huff, purposefully trodding on Blaise’s foot as she went. The door slammed shut behind her.

The carriage was filled with awkward silence, and Blaise rubbed at his injured foot. He looked a bit embarrassed, which given that Blaise had one of the best poker faces Slytherin house had ever bred, meant he was mortified.

“My, my,” said Slughorn, with a nervous chuckle. “Your friend is quite the spitfire, Miss Potter.”

“You have no idea, sir.”

Slughorn let them all go after Ginny, as it seemed the time for the party to break up, and Rose hung back to speak with Blaise.

“You’ve changed your tune,” said Rose.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, Potter, but there’s been a bit of a shakeup in Slytherin House dynamics,” said Blaise.

“Oh?”

“The prince has been deposed, and there’s a power vacuum, and I’m in a position to take over.”

“God, you Slytherins,” said Rose. “Will you stop with the riddles, and the political jargon, and just speak plainly, Zabini?”

“Damn Gryffindors,” Blaise muttered. “Draco is out. I’m taking the top spot, and with it I can make my own rules, including who I can be friendly with.”

“And if it meant you could date a certain feisty red-head again…?”

“Exactly. I didn’t want to break up with her in the first place, but if you recall, the Dark Lord had just arisen, and things were a bit of a mess in the dungeons, and I didn’t want to make myself a target by dating the best friend of the Girl Who Lived. Things are different now.”

“Aren’t you in more danger now?”

He shook his head. “Allies of the Dark Lord are actually very few in the dungeons. I don’t intend to let them get a foothold in my house.”

“I see. So all that Blood Traitor stuff?”

“Utter crap.”

“Oh, Zabini,” said Rose. “You’ve really screwed yourself with that one.”

“But you’ll help me?”

“Why should I? Ginny is happily dating Dean Thomas.”

“Because I want her more.”

“Not selling it.”

“I’d treat her right.”

“You have a history of doing the opposite.”

Blaise sighed gustily. “Fine. How about, I’ll owe you one.”

Rose paused, and thought about this. A favor from Blaise Zabini could come in handy. The Slytherin password. Access to Draco.

“Very well,” Rose said. “I accept. I’ll help you get your foot in the door, what happens after that is up to Ginny.”

Blaise looked a bit wary now that she had agreed. “You’re not going to ask me to do something that could get me killed, are you?”

“Who knows, Zabini?” Rose said airily. “Only time will tell. Shall we shake on it?”

“Dammit,” Blaise said, and put his hand in hers. “Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil?”

Rose smirked. “Perhaps you did.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose left Blaise mentally wringing his hands with worry, and travelled back to her train compartment. Along the way she ran into a familiar face. Hermione was standing outside the door to a loo, arms crossed, and tapping her foot in full on prefect mode.

“What are you doing, Hermione?”

“Someone locked the door, and won’t come out. People have been waiting.” An anxious boy was waiting at Hermione’s side. “I’ve knocked, and told them to come out, and someone swore at me.”

“Rude,” Rose said.

“Go away!” a voice from inside the loo yelled.

Hermione frowned, and knocked again. “Please come out,” she said. “You have been in there for quite some time, and there are other people—“

“For the love of Merlin, Hermione!” The loo door cracked open, and Ginny stuck her head out. Her hair was a wreck, her mouth was red, and her blouse was buttoned up all wrong. “ _I am busy!_ ”

“Ginny!” said Hermione. “What are you doing—?”

From behind Ginny, a shirtless Dean gave an embarrassed wave. “Hey,” he said.

“Go find another loo,” Ginny said to the anxious boy.

“There are people snogging in those too,” the boy complained. “I’ve been waiting ages.”

“Oh, for—“ Hermione said. “You have five minutes,” she said to Ginny and Dean. “If you’re not out of there by then I’m taking points.”

“Hey!” the boy, Ginny, and Dean said at once.

Rose laughed, and the door slammed shut.

“Come on,” Hermione said to the boy. “I’ll clear out the other restrooms too.” She sighed gustily, and tromped away through to the next car, and Rose was very glad that she was not a prefect.

Rose walked past the next compartment and slowed. Inside she saw Blaise standing over Crabbe and Goyle. He directed the two of them about with imperious gestures. It was so bizarre that Rose couldn’t help but stop and stare, because the two boys never reacted to Blaise like that. The only person they took orders from in the past was Draco, and he was—

Rose’s heart gave a ridiculous thump.

Sitting in the far corner of the train car, taking up as little space as was possible for his long limbs to take up, staring out the window with his hand on his fist. He looked utterly disconnected from the scene Blaise was making with his two goons, friends, bodyguards. Pansy sat beside him, and appeared to try to engage him in conversation. He didn’t respond, and when she put her hand on his shoulder, he shrugged her off. Pansy’s face flickered with hurt.

Draco looked up, and caught sight of Rose’s reflection in the window. He went still for a moment, and then got to his feet, and busied himself with retrieving his trunk from the luggage rack.

Rose didn’t want to watch him ignore her, and walked slowly back to her empty compartment.

It was going to be a strange year.

:: :: :: ::

The Sorting Hat sang about joining together to face the coming darkness, and Rose thought it was a nice sentiment. The only surprise of the night came from Dumbledore, when he announced that Slughorn would not be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, as everyone had thought, but the position of Potions Master, which meant that Snape was their new DADA teacher.

Neville looked like he would rather die, and many of the other students seemed to agree.

Rose was concerned. “What about the curse?” she wondered aloud. “DADA teachers never last the year. They never come back.”

“Maybe he’ll die,” Ginny said.

“Gin,” Rose protested.

“Oh come on, you don’t like him either.”

“He’s, you know, all right,” Rose said. “To me.”

“Yeah, only to you,” Ginny said. “You and the Slytherins.”

“He was friends with my mum,” said Rose.

“In love with your mum,” Ginny muttered.

“We’re not talking about that,” Rose said. “That conversation is off limits, because I don’t want to think about Snape and my mum ever doing… things.” She shuddered.

“Things like Dean and I were doing in the loo on the train?” said Ginny, with a filthy smile.

“Exactly. That’s just gross.”

“Excuse you. It was the opposite of gross,” said Ginny.

“I meant my mum and Snape.”

“It was hot,” said Ginny dreamily, not even pretending to pay attention to Rose anymore. She was off in her head, probably reliving whatever had transpired between herself and Dean. Although Rose had said she wanted to live vicariously, this was a little too close for comfort.

Speaking of which. Rose had a favor to earn.

“I was talking to Blaise after the Slug Club,” said Rose.

Ginny’s expression soured. “What did he want?”

“We just chatted a bit. He was quite friendly.”

“Yeah. He seemed to be in a good mood,” said Ginny. “I wonder who he paid to suck his—“

“Ginny!” said Hermione. “I am eating. Please do not reference anyone’s private body parts, and what they may be doing with them while I am eating.”

Ginny and Hermione huffed identical huffs of agitation, and went back to their plates. Rose smothered a grin.

Dumbledore made further comments about Voldemort and how he had returned to scare them all in their beds, and if they saw anything suspicious they should say something to a teacher, lest they all be actually murdered in their beds by an agent of Voldemort. It was all suitably dramatic, but Rose rather thought that if Dumbledore actually meant it, he wouldn’t have let Draco come back to school this year. Dumbledore knew for a fact that Draco was plotting with Voldemort to bring about Rose’s demise. Probably Dumbledore believed that Draco wanted to do it just as much as Rose did, which was to say, not at all.

:: :: :: ::

As she left the Great Hall after the feast, she felt someone brush up against her and push a ball of parchment into her hand. She looked around to see who had done it, but there was a crush of people trying to leave through the doors, and it could have been anyone.

She unraveled the parchment, and had to fight a smile when she read the note.

_Midnight. Trophy room._

A secret midnight rendezvous. Of course. She would be sure _not_ to bring Neville along this time.

:: :: :: ::

With the map and cloak it was very easy to get to the trophy room after curfew without being caught. She avoided Filch with ease. The trophy room was dark and silent when she arrived. Moonlight flooded the tall windows, and gleamed on the shiny surfaces of the multitude of cups, shields, plaques, and spindly trophies that were on display. A tall figure suddenly appeared from the shadows, and Rose gasped before she realized who it was.

“Merlin,” she hissed. “You scared me.”

Draco didn’t waste a moment. He drew close, invading her space with a hand at her waist and another at her neck, and pulled her into a kiss. Rose’s heart thundered in her ears, and for a moment she didn’t know where to put her hands. Draco opened her mouth with his lips and tongue, and she was lost. Her hands found places to settle, on his back and in his hair. She had never felt like this when being kissed before, like she was a firework and Draco had lit the fuse. She tugged on his hair, and he hummed into her mouth. His mouth left hers, and he placed biting kisses in a line down her throat. She gasped his name, breathless, and the arm around her waist tightened, drawing her body close so they were pressed snugly together.

“—been thinking about this for the past bloody month,” he said, and his teeth scraped her collarbone. “Longer, really.”

“How long?” she asked.

“Years,” he said. “Maybe my whole life.”

Rose smiled, feeling giddy, and found his lips with hers.

“Did you?” he asked. “Think about this? Us?”

Oh, Merlin, did she ever. She was glad he couldn’t see her blush in the dark. “Yes. I thought about you all the time.”

Draco gave a pleased murmur, and kissed her deeply. Rose arched up on her toes, and wrapped both her arms around his neck. His hands drifted from her waist to her bum, and when he squeezed and ground their hips together she squeaked. His mouth broke away from hers, and he snickered. Rose rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face.

Draco put his forehead to hers, and he put his arms around her in something that was more like a hug than trying to fuse their bodies together whilst snogging. Rose held him tightly.

“How was the rest of your summer?” she asked.

“Horrible,” he said, and his arms tightened around her.

“What did he do when he saw us kissing? Did he hurt you?”

Draco shook his head. “He laughed,” he said. “Then he congratulated me on showing initiative, and getting you to trust me. He said that it will be useful in the future.”

“Oh.”

He hummed in agreement. “Yes. I had to vomit after that interview,” said Draco wryly.

Rose bit her lip and sighed.

“What does he want you to do?” she asked.

Draco shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen. I’m working on a way around it.”

“If you tell me, I can help you figure something out.”

“Help me figure out a way to get my parents someplace safe,” he said. “That would be helpful.”

“All right,” said Rose. “That’s easy.”

Draco snorted. “If it was easy I would have done it already.”

“Well, there’s Dumbledore.”

Draco sucked in a deep breath, and stepped away from her. Rose’s arms fell to her sides, and she felt cold without his arms around her anymore. He sat on the edge of the nearest windowsill and crossed his arms. His hair lit up brilliantly in the moonlight, though Rose could hardly see his face in the shadows.

“Pass.”

“Draco.”

“Rose, I have to sell this idea to my father. He’s never going agree to go to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix for help. I think the best I can hope for is to convince them to flee to a lovely chateau in the south of France to wait out the war.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I don’t even know if they would come with me. I think my father is so devoted to the cause that he can’t even see that the Dark Lord is nothing like the ideals my father joined the Death Eaters to uphold. I’m sure my mother would support me, but I also don’t think she would leave my father behind.”

“So you need a safe way to talk to them to convince them,” said Rose.

“Yes,” he said, “but even if it turns out they would both come away, I don’t know how they would be able to leave the manor. My aunt Bellatrix is basically their prison guard, and we can’t all leave the house at the same time. Someone always has to stay behind, as collateral in case the others get the idea to leave.”

“Don’t you have any secret passageways out of your huge manor?”

“Yes, but the Dark Lord knows about them.”

“Oh. I suppose that’s out, then.”

Draco nodded.

“I’ve got to go soon,” he said. He kissed her once more. “Pansy will be missing me.”

Rose froze, and then reared back in alarm. “What do you mean, _Pansy will be missing you?_ I thought you broke up with her.”

“No,” he said, eyes wide and shaking his head like Rose misunderstood something vital. “She’s my cover. If I’m still supposedly dating her then no one will suspect that I’m actually with you.”

“Draco!” said Rose, who couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m not going to be with you when you’re still with Pansy!”

“It’s not real,” he said. “Hell, I’ve hardly said two words to her, let alone done anything like kiss her since the end of last year.” Rose blinked. He hadn’t kissed Pansy since that day in Myrtle’s bathroom?

“But she’s still your girlfriend? You’re still together?”

He shrugged. “Pansy seems to think we are.”

“You’ve got to break it off with her. It’s mean to lead her on like this.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not! Draco, I can’t be with you like this when you’re still with her!”

“But it’s not even real!” he protested.

“But you’ll have to play the part, won’t you? She’ll get suspicious if her boyfriend never kisses her anymore!”

Draco made a face. “I’m not going to kiss her.”

“What if you have to?” she asked. “To keep up your _cover_?” Rose made air quotes around the words, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Even if I did have to, it wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“But it would mean something to me!” said Rose.

“Would you be jealous?” he asked, a pleased sort of glint in his eyes that made Rose want to smack him.

“Yes,” she said. “And I don’t think I do very well with jealousy, so you’ll want to avoid raising that particular emotion in me if you know what’s good for you.”

Draco smirked a little. “I don’t know. Angry is a good look on you.”

Rose threw up her hands. “Why are you scared to break up with her?”

“I’m not scared to,” he said, scowling. “But she will want to know why, and she’s not an idiot. She knows that you’re the only other girl I’ve ever had any feelings for, and if we break up she’s going to come after you, and it will all end badly. She’ll tell everyone that we’re really together, and it could get my parents hurt.”

“But Voldemort already knows—”

“He thinks I’m playing you. If he starts to suspect that I’m playing _him_ he’ll hurt my parents to punish me. I can’t risk that.”

“I understand that. But I can’t be with you when you’re with her. I’ve done shitty things to my boyfriends in the past, and I’m not going to do that with you, or let you do that to me.”

“What do you mean, shitty things?”

“Like I was in love with you the whole time I was with them.”

Draco tried very hard not to look pleased, and failed.

“It made me feel bad,” said Rose. “I don’t want any part of you and me together to feel bad. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause, until Draco sighed, and got to his feet. He took her in his arms, and put his forehead to hers. “I understand.”

Rose sighed, and unfolded her crossed arms to wrap around him instead.

“Merlin,” he said, “so no kissing you until I save my parents?”

Rose shook her head. “No kissing.”

“Not even just one more? I didn’t know the last kiss was going to be _the last kiss_.”

“We shouldn’t,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, we should.” Then he took her face in his hands, and kissed her long, and slow, and deep, and Rose completely regretted the fact that she had just put a ban on this kind of thing for the foreseeable future.

“Fuck,” he said, when they couldn’t kiss any longer because they needed air. “This is so good. Kissing you is so good.” It was. It really, really was.

“We need to rescue your parents really soon,” said Rose.

“Tomorrow, if possible,” Draco agreed.

Rose laughed softly, and Draco pressed his lips to hers again.

“Draco,” she protested.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “But we only just started doing this, and Merlin, Rose, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for years, and I don’t want to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you either,” she said. “But I don’t want to feel like you belong to someone else when I’m doing it.”

He shook his head. “I belong to you,” he insisted.

Rose smiled. “You are playing so dirty right now.”

“Slytherin,” he smirked.

“It won’t work,” she said.

“Debatable,” he said. “But I’m going to do that thing where I respect your wishes.”

“Gee, that’s nice of you.”

“You seem to like it.”

She liked when he was bad too, so her judgement on this matter couldn’t be trusted.

“So, midnight rendezvous in the trophy room. How do you think it’s going?” he asked.

Rose grinned. “I think it’s going just the way you hoped it would when you suggested it in first year.”

Draco smirked. “First year me did not have the same dreams and plans for this meeting as sixth year me did.”

Rose giggled.

“Ah, she likes innuendo. Good to know.” He grinned, happy, and Rose felt a pang of regret. She would go down to the Slytherin dormitory, and break up with Pansy herself if it meant she could get his mouth on her again, guilt free, right this very second.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t I’m going to break my rule.”

“In that case, I should keep you here,” he said. “But I won’t.”

Rose put her arms around him, and he held her tightly for a moment.

“Let’s meet here again on Friday,” he suggested. “Maybe one of us will have come up with an idea by then.”

Rose agreed, and they said goodnight, looking back at each other as they left the trophy room, and went off in opposite directions.


	21. Year Six, Part 6

:: :: :: ::

At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall handed around their new class schedules and went through every student to make sure they were cleared to take the classes they wanted to take for their NEWT’s.  Rose hadn’t anticipated being able to take potions this year, because Snape required an Outstanding on the OWLs, and Rose had only gotten an Exceeds Expectations, but Snape wasn’t teaching Potions this year, and Slughorn was happy enough to take students with E’s.  Rose thought if she’d only gotten an Acceptable Slughorn would have lowered his bar so she could reach it. 

Ron Weasley was in the same boat, and McGonagall assured them that though they hadn’t bought potions ingredients or the book, they could borrow from the students’ stores and get books from Slughorn until their owl orders arrived.

The first class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape, which seemed like a rough way to begin every week for the rest of term, so the sixth year Gryffindors trudged up to the DADA classroom with a sense of dread. 

The class turned out to be much like Rose had expected.Snape was in his element, sweeping about the room like a bat, making dire statements about their poor chances against agents who would wish them harm, because they’d never had proper schooling in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and showing them grotesque illustrations of people who had been cursed with horrible hexes. 

Rose was pleased as punch.Finally, she would have a decent professor in this subject!She would learn how to protect and defend herself!Perhaps next time she came up against Voldemort she wouldn’t wind up on the floor, screaming in pain, and then have her hair pulled and her head jerked about while Voldemort made mocking statements.Snape would be the best DADA teacher they’d had since Remus.

Rose smiled, and Snape pounced on it with a glare, as though he thought she was mocking him.

“Problem, Miss Potter?” he snarled.

“No, sir.I’m just glad Professor Dumbledore finally set us a good teacher for this subject.”

He glared at her suspiciously.

Rose frowned.“I really am.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow, gave her a half nod in acknowledgement for the complement, and got on with the lesson.

:: :: :: ::

In Potions class, Slughorn handed Rose two old textbooks of Advanced Potion Making, and asked her to hand the other down to Ron.  Rose flicked through her copy, and quickly swapped with Ron.

“Oi,” he said.“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing.Nothing at all.It’s the same as mine.”

Ron scowled suspiciously, and hunched over his book to examine it.“Someone’s written in it,” he complained.“I can barely make out what’s printed here.”

“Oh, mine’s like that too,” Rose lied.“Writing absolutely everywhere.”

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, and turned his back on her to sidle up to Hermione.Rose didn’t feel too bad about the lie.Ron would only have the book with all the scribbles for a week at most, and Rose reckoned he’d be leaning close enough to Hermione in class to get a look at her pristine textbook if he really needed to.

Slughorn was a bit of a showman, which didn’t surprise Rose at all, and he took great delight in showing off his potion making skills and quizzing the class on what they knew about these difficult potions.Slughorn had prepared cauldrons of Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, and a love potion called Amortentia, which everyone thought smelled like something different.Hermione smelled parchment and mown grass.To Rose it smelled like chocolate, violets, and expensive cologne.Like Draco, she thought ruefully.There was also a potion called Felix Felicis, which apparently made a person very lucky when they drank it.

Hermione ended up impressing Slughorn, which was just as well.If Slughorn hadn’t noticed Hermione’s extreme case of brilliance then he and Rose would have had a chat about it until Slughorn came around to Rose’s way of thinking.

Slughorn made a vial of Felix Felicis the prize for whoever brewed the best example of Draught of Living Death.

Draco looked like he would win that vial or drink his entire cauldron of Draught of Living Death.Hermione worked feverishly, her hair frizzing up in the heat coming off her cauldron.Rose thought it would be quite nice to win as well, if only because Draco seemed to want it so badly, and she wasn’t quite sure he ought to have it, and followed the directions carefully.But in the end, Ron Weasley came out of nowhere and won the little vial.

Hermione looked stunned.

“Well, well, well,” said Slughorn.“The Weasleys continue to impress!Good job, my boy.”

Ron blushed.“Thank you, sir.”

“How did you do that?” Hermione asked.“How—?”

“I just followed the instructions?” Ron said.“Like in the book.”

Hermione frowned.“But I followed them exactly.I know I did.”

Rose patted her arm.“Looks like you might have some competition, Hermione.”

“No!I don’t— I don’t want to compete,” said Ron.“Hermione’s brilliant, and I— I don’t.I wouldn’t want to—“Hermione’s shock swiftly turned to irritation.

“Unseat me from my academic throne?” said Hermione testily.

“Yes, that,” said Ron.He looked relieved for all of two seconds, and then registered the look on Hermione’s face.

Hermione huffed, and started to pack up her potion ingredients with sharp movements.“I can certainly handle any competition you want to offer, Ronald,” she snapped.

Ron gaped like a fish.“I know that!I didn’t mean—“

Hermione turned up her nose, vanished the potion in her cauldron, gathered her things, and strode from the classroom. 

“Bloody hell,” said Ron.His shoulders sagged, and he sat in his chair with a thump.He looked at the vial of Felix Felicis in his hand and scowled at it.“Should have had some straight off,” he muttered.

“There, there, Mr. Weasley,” said Slughorn, patting Ron on the shoulder.“I daresay the fairer sex are difficult for men to fathom at times, but I don’t think you need resort to old Felix just yet.”

Ron nodded at Slughorn, looking disconsolate.

Rose smiled to herself, and packed up her things.The classroom slowly emptied, as the other students gathered their things together and left the room.She looked at the front of the classroom, and watched Draco take his seat again.What had he been doing?Rose caught his eye, and tipped her head to the side in question.Draco smirked, and arched his eyebrows at her.He looked to Slughorn, and seeing that he was still occupied with Ron, flashed her a glimpse of a potion vial hidden in his hand, filled with a matching sparkly gold potion to the one Ron was still frowning over.

Draco had stolen some of Slughorn’s Felix Felicis while everyone had been distracted by Slughorn’s praise of Ron’s potion, and the subsequent drama with Hermione.Merlin, o _f course_ he did. 

Draco gathered his things together, and as he was leaving the room walked past her table.“Should come in handy, don’t you think?” he said in an undertone, and left the room.

Rose swallowed a sigh, and hoped he would use it to save his parents and nothing more.If he decided to use it to further any of Voldemort’s agendas in order to keep his parents safe it could prove disastrous.She hoped that he would have no need of it at all, and he would eventually see the sense in going to ask Dumbledore for help. 

And a tiny part of her hoped that maybe, he’d stolen _two_ vials of the potion, because she could really use some good luck.

:: :: :: ::

It was too early in the year for homework in Rose’s mind, but that didn’t stop Hermione from setting up shop at a table in the common room with all her books, a stack of parchment, and a pot of color change ink.  She was laying out her note-taking system for all their new classes.  Rose sat nearby pretending to read the assigned pages for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but really watching Hermione’s neat, precise progress across several rolls of parchment.

Cormac McLaggen swaggered over to stand next to their table.His face was smoothed over with a charming smile, and obviously focused on Hermione. 

“Hello, again, Potter,” said Cormac, giving her a cursory glance before his eyes snapped back to Hermione, whose curly head was still bent over her notes.

“‘Lo, Cormac,” said Rose.She flipped a page in her book.It made a crisp, satisfying noise that Rose meant to mean, ‘ _Goodbye_ , arsehole.’

“So how about Old Sluggy, eh?” he said.“Quite a group he picked up on the train to school.”

Rose nodded.Some of her favorite people had been invited, but then so had Cormac McLaggen.There was always a rotten apple in a bunch.

“My father said that Slughorn likes to invite his favorite students around for special dinners and the like.Sometimes he invites famous former students,” said Cormac.

“I’d heard the same thing,” said Rose.Dumbledore had told her what Slughorn’s plan was - to collect her like the shiniest prize in his collection of shiny things.Rose didn’t mind if it meant she got to spend time with other shiny people.

“I imagine with her brains Granger here will be invited to the next do,” said Cormac. 

Hermione looked up, blinking, as though only just now realizing that they were not alone any longer. 

Cormac smiled at Hermione, and though it was possibly the most handsome expression Rose had ever seen on his face, all she could think of was last year when this same boy asked George if Rose put out.

What an arsehole.

Rose was not inclined to forgive and forget something like that, but she didn’t want to rain on Hermione’s boy parade either. 

Hermione smiled back at Cormac, though only a little.She did not look as charmed by Cormac as she had by Viktor Krum, and did not have the wide eyed look she got when Ron Weasley was in the vicinity and doing something unexpectedly sweet.Rose thought she could rest easy. 

“Who else do you suppose will be invited?” asked Cormac.

“I’m not sure,” said Rose.Though she thought she could guess.

“I doubt Belby will be asked back,” said Cormac.“Slughorn didn’t seem to like that he didn’t see his uncle much.”

“I suppose not.”

“He didn’t seem to like Longbottom much either,” said Cormac.

Rose made a face.Neville was quite one of her favorite people, and she thought anyone who underestimated him was not looking hard enough.Neville was wonderful.

“I expect Hermione, and Ron, probably,” she said.After Ron’s performance today in Slughorn’s class, there was little chance Slughorn wouldn’t invite him around to Slug Club.

“Ron Weasley?” said Cormac, scrunching up his nose.“I didn’t think he was quite Slughorn’s sort.”

“He’s very clever,” said Hermione, and then looked as though she hadn’t meant to say anything.

“If you say so,” said Cormac, dubious.“Though I never thought he was quite as clever as the twins.”

“Just because Ron isn’t as _showy_ —“ said Hermione heatedly, and then stopped speaking abruptly.She looked flustered, and got to her feet.“Excuse me, I forgot something in my room.”

Cormac watched her leave, mystified.He looked back to Rose, and said, “What was that all about?”

Rose pasted on a fake smile, and shrugged as though she had no idea.She loudly turned a page in her book without reading it, and hoped Cormac would get the hint.

He did, and nodded awkwardly.He cocked his thumb in the direction of the portrait hole, indicating that he was going to leave now.Rose nodded, fake smile firmly in place, and turned another page in her book as he left. 

Cormac left through the portrait hole, and Ginny and Dean entered before it could swing shut again.

Ginny suspiciously peered around the room, and satisfied, grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him across the room to sit at Rose’s table.

“Hello, lovebirds,” said Rose over the top of her book.

“Shh!” said Ginny.“Not so loud.Where’s my brother?”

“How should I know?And why?”

Ginny gave Dean a look, and rolled her eyes at him.“Because _someone_ ,” she said pointedly, “is afraid of what Ron will do once he finds out that Dean likes to stick his tongue in my mouth.”

Dean covered his eyes with one hand, mortified.“Oh my god, why are you telling her this?”

“I tell Rose everything.”

Dean looked up in alarm.“When you say everything…”

“ _Everything_ ,” said Rose, smirking at him.Dean blushed. 

“Does Seamus know you two are together?” asked Rose.

“Yeah, of course,” said Dean.“Why?”

Why?Because Seamus was terrible at keeping secrets.When he had a piece of juicy gossip he liked to tease the people involved in what he thought was a clever manner, but really just gave the game away.

“You ought to just tell Ron,” said Rose.“He’ll fly off the handle, but who cares?”

“I care,” said Dean.“He’s my friend, and I share a dorm with him.”

“He’ll be angrier when he finds out that you’ve been lying to him about it.”

“Maybe he won’t find out.”

“Why wouldn’t he find out?” asked Ginny.

“I just mean—“

“Do you mean to hide this relationship forever?” she asked, heatedly.

“No!” said Dean.“I just mean… can’t we put off the inevitable for a bit longer?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and then subsided.Dean sighed in relief.“I suppose,” she said.“Sneaking around is kind of exciting.”

Hermione appeared at the bottom of the staircase to the dorms, empty handed.She looked relieved to find Cormac gone, and took her seat at the table again.

“Hullo, Ginny, Dean,” she said.She took up her quill, and poised it over the parchment again.“What are you talking about?”

“We were just talking about Ron.”

Hermione’s grip on the quill tightened.“What about Ron?”She looked between them all, shifty eyed and flushing.

“I was just saying that they ought to tell Ron that they’re dating before he finds out on his own.”

“Oh,” said Hermione, sinking into her chair, and letting out a shaky sigh.

“He’ll freak out,” said Dean.“He’ll kill me.He’ll put spiders in my bed.”

Hermione shook her head.“He wouldn’t do that.Ron’s afraid of spiders.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes.“How do you know that?”

“He told that story this summer, about how Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider when he was little…You don’t remember.”Ginny and Rose shook their heads.Hermione scowled slightly, and her cheeks pinked further. 

“You must have a really good memory,” said Dean.

“She does,” said Rose, coming to her bff’s rescue.“She remembers absolutely everything.”Especially if it came out of Ron Weasley’s mouth.

“Are you guys talking about Ron Weasley?” asked Lavender, who appeared from nowhere and slipped into the chair beside Hermione. 

“Um… yes?” said Rose.

Lavender grinned, dimple appearing in her cheek, and clasped her hands on the table.She leaned in close, and asked, “Don’t you think he got… _tall_ over break?”

“Tall?” asked Ginny.

Lavender waved her away.“You’re his sister.You wouldn’t notice.Rosie, ‘Mione, don’t you think he got _tall?_ ”She waggled her eyebrows, and laughed.

“And by _tall_ you mean?” asked Rose.

Lavender gave her a flat look.“Hot, Rose.I mean hot.Merlin.”

Dean leaned far back in his chair.“Ohh.You mean…”

“He’s all handsome now, and a bit dreamy, really,” said Lavender.“Don’t you think, Rose?”

“I guess?” said Rose.“I don’t really…I mean…”

“She means, ‘ _eugh!_ ’” said Ginny.“That’s my brother.And he is not ‘dreamy.’Eugh.”

“She doesn’t mean, ‘ _eugh_ ,’” said Lavender.“And of course you’d say that.You’re his sister.”

“My brother is not hot!” said Ginny.

“He _is_ though,” said Lavender.She turned mischievous, and winked at Rose before going on.“He’s got those arms, and those blue eyes, and that bum!”

“Gross, Lavender!” said Ginny. 

“Hermione agrees with me,” said Lavender.“Don’t you, ‘Mione?”

Hermione didn’t look up from her notes, hair falling into her face to hide her blush from Lavender.Rose, across the table, could see perfectly how pink Hermione was. 

“He’s not bad,” said Hermione, fooling no one.

Lavender laughed, and nudged Hermione’s elbow.Her quill went skidding across the parchment, leaving a jagged, inky mark.“Not bad?That must mean you agree completely,” said Lavender. 

“Shall I tell him about how dreamy you think he is, Lavender?” asked Dean, a smirk playing on his lips.

Lavender nodded.“Please do, and ask him what he thinks about me, okay?”

“Why?” asked Hermione, ever so slightly shrill.

“To see if he’ll go out with me, of course,” said Lavender.“I’m in the market for a boyfriend.”

It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, Rose thought, wincing.Hermione’s face went blank, she dropped her quill, and turned to face Lavender.“Boyfriend?You really like him that much?”

Lavender shrugged.“I think he’s cute, and he’s nice.I’d like to spend more time with him.What more do you need in a boyfriend, really?”

Hermione blinked at her.“I guess nothing.”

Lavender smiled.“We should find you a boyfriend, too, Hermione.You haven’t had one since Viktor Krum.”

“Oh, I don’t really—“

“He’s a hard act to follow though,” said Lavender.“Famous Quidditch player and all.”

“Viktor and I weren’t really… it wasn’t that serious.He wasn’t actually my boyfriend.”

“Ohh,” said Lavender, nodding.“I see.Are you still hung up on him?”

“No, of course not!” said Hermione.“He wanted to be more, but I wasn’t ready for a relationship like that.Not then.”Hermione turned purposefully back to her notes, and frowned at the mark she’d made across the parchment.She fetched her wand from her bag, and magicked the mark away.

Lavender patted her shoulder.“I understand.”Lavender looked at Rose, and mouthed, ‘Poor ‘Mione!’Rose could only shake her head at Lavender.Poor, oblivious Lavender.

The portrait hole opened again, and Ron appeared.He saw them, and ambled over.“This looks like trouble,” he said, stopping at the end of their table by Hermione.He put his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels.“What are you all doing?”

“Talking about you, mate!” said Dean, grinning.

Ron’s eyebrows furrowed, and a smile started playing around his mouth.“What about me?”

“Apparently you’re _dreamy_ ,” said Dean.

Ron blinked at him, and then flushed red.“I’m what?”He looked at Hermione, Rose, Ginny, and then Hermione again.Hermione kept her head down, eyes locked on her notes, but not moving her quill one inch.Rose wished Hermione would look up, and see the hopeful look on Ron’s face.

Lavender giggled.“Dean, you were supposed to wait until we weren’t around.”

“Sorry, Lav,” said Dean.“I don’t know how it works.”Ginny elbowed him, and he grinned at her.

Lavender was blushing too, but carried it off with bravado.She rose from her chair, and walked past Ron.As she did, she touched his arm, trailing her fingers up his bicep, and Ron stared at her.Lavender winked, and sashayed away.Ron watched her go, mouth agape. 

“Oy,” said Ginny.“Stop drooling, and sit down.”

Ron flushed a deeper red, turning something approaching maroon, and slid into the seat Lavender had vacated.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Lavender wants in your pants,” said Dean. 

“She what?” said Ron.

“Dean!” said Ginny. 

“What?” Dean said, holding up his hands.“You all saw what I just did.His pants.She wants in them.”

“Let’s stop talking about my brother’s pants,” said Ginny, winkling her nose.

“Yeah, tell me what she said later,” said Ron.

“Sure thing, mate,” said Dean. 

Hermione stood abruptly, and started packing up her things.“I think I’ll go to bed,” she said. 

Ron started, and then reached out like he would touch her arm, before pulling his hand back.“Hermione,” said Ron.“I wanted to talk to you… about what happened in Potions…”

“It’s fine, Ron,” she said, not looking at him.She stuffed her books haphazardly into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder.“Goodnight, everyone.”She hastily walked away, and climbed the staircase out of sight.

“It’s _early_ though,” said Ron, looking at the empty stairwell.“She’s really angry with me, isn’t she?”

Rose shook her head.“I don’t think she’s mad at you, Ron.I’d better go check on her though.”

Ron looked morose, and dropped his head onto his folded arms on the tabletop. 

“I’ll come too,” said Ginny.She sneakily caressed the back of Dean’s neck, and he smiled at her, though Ron likely wouldn’t have noticed if she’d kissed Dean at that moment, and the girls went up to the dormitory.

Hermione was slumped back on the foot of her bed, bag dumped carelessly, with books and parchment spilling all over the floor.Hermione would be horrified by the wrinkled parchments when she noticed later.

“I hate him,” she announced, and Rose and Ginny climbed onto the bed to sit beside her.They put their heads onto each of her shoulders.

“He’s horrible,” said Ginny. 

“The worst,” said Rose.

“Really though,” said Ginny, “he’s gross, and you should have a crush on someone else.”

Hermione flushed, and covered her face with her hands.“Oh, I’m so obvious, aren’t I?”

“Only to us,” said Rose, assuringly.“Dean and Lavender had no clue.”

“Ron doesn’t know, does he?” Hermione asked, pitifully.

Ginny snorted.“Please.Ron is oblivious to everything.”

“Boys are awful.I hate boys.”Hermione groaned aloud, and covered her eyes with her hands.“Oh, why do I like him so much?”

Rose patted Hermione’s hair.“There, there, ‘Mione.”

“And Lavender!” said Hermione shrilly, throwing her hands in the air.“Lavender likes him!How dare Lavender like him, too!”

“She’s a cow,” said Ginny. 

“She’s prettier than me,” said Hermione in a small voice, looking upset.

Rose gasped.“She is not!”

“She is.”

“You’re smarter,” said Ginny.“Lavender is dumb as bricks.”

“Ugh!” said Hermione, throwing up her hands.“Look at what he’s doing to me!I’m insecure!I’m whining!I’m jealous!This is horrible.I’m better than this!”

Rose nodded, and patted her hair.“It’s ok, Hermione.We can trash Lavender for awhile if it will make you feel better.”

Hermione subsided, and curled into herself.“We shouldn’t.”

“She’s a dumb blonde,” said Ginny promptly.

“She has a funny cowlick,” said Rose.

It wasn’t long before they ran out of mean things to say about Lavender, and had to start making things up, if only to make each other laugh. 

“…I bet she wears Martin Miggs panties.”

“Her boobs are probably fake.”

Hermione snorted loudly, and then clapped her hands to her face with wide eyes.Rose and Ginny laughed, until Hermione started laughing with them.

“We’re terrible people,” said Hermione, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s why I like you both so much,” said Ginny, squeezing Hermione, and petting Rose’s hair.“Cause we’re terrible.”

“Me too,” said Rose, laughing, and hugging Hermione tight.

Hermione groaned.“You both are squeezing me too much.”

“No such thing,” said Ginny.“You need more hugs.”

Rose agreed, and they piled on, and hugged Hermione tightly, while she pretended to push them away, and failed to hide her wide smiles.

:: :: :: ::

Rose missed Draco, for all she has seen him in classes, and across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table at meals.  He even spoke to her briefly in Potions that afternoon.  However, Pansy Parkinson sat beside him at every meal, and every time she touched his arm, or pressed herself close to him it drove Rose crazy.  She wanted to scream with how jealous she felt.  Pansy Parkinson, with her green tipped fingernails all over Draco’s person.  Draco allowing the touches, though never encouraging them - at least that he _let Rose see_.  She was losing it.  Next thing she knew she would be throwing a tantrum, tearing her hair out, and joining Hermione in wallowing over boys mistreating them.  The worst part was that Rose didn’t even have the assurance anymore that Draco only wanted to be with her. She had put on a ban on kissing and romance in general, and for all Rose knew Draco was getting his fix with Pansy, and Rose was just some kind of pawn that he was stringing along.  She knew better in her heart, but her head was full of doubts and jealousy and every other self-hating thought it could dredge up.  So it was a relief when Friday rolled around, and she could talk to him again.

She slipped out of the dormitory at a quarter to midnight, wrapped up in her Invisibility Cloak, and arrived in the trophy room with minutes to spare.The moon was hidden behind clouds tonight, and the room was much darker as a consequence.The trophies were dark silhouettes, no more than a dull gleam here and there.Rose sat in the window, and was bemused at the way she cast no shadow in the meager light spilling through the window onto the flagstones.She held her hand out of the cloak, and watched its disembodied shape cast shadows on the floor.

Somewhere a distant clock struck midnight, and Rose strained to count the chimes.They faded away, and still Rose waited. 

And waited. 

Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she grew bored of sitting in the window, and making shadow puppets.She got to her feet and walked carefully around the room.She peered closely at trophies, trying to read what they were for or who they’d be awarded to, but it was too dark to make them out.

She started to wonder how long she would wait for Draco.She wondered if he had been held up, or if he had forgotten their meeting altogether.She wondered if he was with Pansy.She wondered what they were doing.She wondered if Pansy had been successful in making Draco, ‘keep up his cover.’She wondered if she was a fool.She wished she wore a watch.She had no notion of how long she had been waiting, but knew it must be more than twenty minutes.

How long would she wait? 

Maybe he would still come, she reasoned.Maybe he had been caught by Filch.Maybe he had fallen asleep.Maybe he had been delayed by his friends.Maybe he had been delayed by Pansy.

Rose went to the doorway closer to the Slytherin dormitory, where Draco usually entered the room, and looked for him.There was no movement.She carefully moved out onto the landing, and looked to the moving staircases.All was still at this time of night.No one was traveling. 

Rose sighed to herself, and heard the clock chime again.Twelve thirty.She felt a flash of irritation, and her dark thoughts fanned the spark into outright anger.She had waited long enough.She swept the cloak around her, and went back to her dormitory.

When she got back, she put the cloak back inside her trunk, and dug out the map.Everyone else was sleeping, unaware of her trip.She settled back inside the closed curtains of her four poster bed, and lit up her wand.A few taps and a gentle murmur, and she was looking for Draco’s dot.She didn’t find it anywhere.Not in the crowded Slytherin dormitory.Not roaming the halls.Not in the trophy room.No where.It was like he wasn’t even in the school.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

:: :: :: ::

When she woke in the morning, she checked the map again, and Draco’s dot was inside the Slytherin dormitory, alongside Blaise, Vincent, and Greg’s dot.  It seemed Theo Nott was in the shower.  Rose frowned.  Where had Draco gone last night?  Had he actually left the school?

She knew, from forays Sirius had taken her on in third year, that there were many hidden passageways in and out of the school.Some were blocked off, or had been discovered over the years, but she knew of one that led to the basement of Honeydukes, and of course the passageway from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack was still there, if not easily accessible.

Had Draco found one of these passages and then left the school grounds to… do something? 

Rose frowned at Draco’s dot on the map, and hoped he could feel her displeasure, because he’d be getting a taste of it later, if she could manage it. 

She watched his dot all day for an opening to ambush him, and grew even more furious that he’d made her resort to actual stalking.He had breakfast late, in the company of Pansy and Blaise.He skipped lunch, and Rose couldn’t find his dot anywhere, but it was possible that she just missed it, as the map was swarming with dots and wiggling banners, and it was hard to to find individuals if they were in a crowd.He was with Pansy again at dinner, looking harassed.Rose watched from across the hall as he snapped at Pansy, and shook off her hand on his arm, before stalking from the room.Pansy looked like she would either hex him in the back, or burst into tears.She opted to cry, and was consoled by her friend, Daphne Greengrass.

Jackpot. 

Rose told her friends she would see them later, and followed him.

He wasn’t in the Entrance Hall, so Rose pulled out the map and quickly found him heading up the staircases.She was surprised, as she had expected him to retreat into the dungeons, not to book it up three flights of stairs and still climbing.Rose followed.He went all the way up to the seventh floor, and she entertained the cheering thought that maybe he was going to see Dumbledore, as the Headmaster’s office was in the same direction.But he stopped well before that, and began to pace.

Rose looked up with a gasp.She folded the map mostly closed, and started to run, because she knew where he was going!

The hallway was empty when she reached the seventh floor, but she kept running, right up to the unobtrusive door that had appeared in the wall.It was slowly closing, but Rose plowed into it, feeling a sense of victory, and barged right in after him. 

“What the hell!” he exclaimed.He spun around at the racket she made, and his eyes widened at the sight of her.

Rose laughed, breathing hard.She hadn’t run like that in ages, and was rather giddy now.“Caught you,” she said.

“Rose!You can’t be here!Did anyone see you?”He turned anxious eyes to the door, as it shut with a click. 

“Wow,” said Rose.Now that she was inside the room, she was astonished at what she saw.The room was enormous; high arched windows spilled the last rays of sunlight into the room.The ceiling so high she couldn’t see it, as it disappeared into darkness, and who knew how far the room itself went in any direction.She couldn’t see any far walls, and didn’t think she would have seen any, even if the aisles and rows, and piles and piles of _junk_ weren’t in the way.The room was absolutely filled with stuff, like a demented flea market.There were armoires, books, bottles of potions, rolled up rugs, a group of umbrellas all stuffed into a tall jar.There were several rusty swords, and a axe that looked like it was stained with blood.There were Fanged Frisbees hovering about, and other items that were on Filch’s list of forbidden items.

“What _is_ this place?” she asked.

“You should go,” said Draco.“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Nor should you, I’d wager,” said Rose, walking up to a cabinet and peering inside.It was crammed with sherry bottles.One rolled out and crashed at Rose’s feet.She jumped back, right into Draco.

“It’s called the Room of Hidden Things,” said Draco, resigned.He flicked his wand, and the glass disappeared.

The items started to make more sense.Forbidden joke items, alcohol bottles, bloodied weapons.Furniture that had been bespelled wrong and hidden away.Bottles of wickedly gleaming potions.Not to mention all sorts of things generations, a millennia, of Hogwarts students would secret away.

“Wow,” she said aloud, and set off down an aisle to explore.Draco followed, giving up on the idea of dissuading her from staying in this room with him.He had to know that arguing with her was useless.

She peered into cabinets, and fingered glittering trinkets as she came across them.There was a pretty hat pin topped with a glittering crystal that Rose was tempted to take for herself.She saw a selection of Filibuster’s fireworks, an unopened Skiving Snackbox, and a bust of Shakespeare.Another cabinet revealed a birdcage with a skeleton inside it.She shut the door quickly, disgusted, and turned to Draco.He looked like a sword was hanging over his head, and Rose was here to deliver the blow.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

He looked away, and was silent.

Rose rolled her eyes.“Why didn’t you show up in the trophy room last night?I waited for you.”

“There was a party in the common room.I couldn’t get away.”

The Slytherin common room _had_ been crowded last night.It was possible that Draco’s dot had been lost in the crush.Rose hummed.“I imagine Pansy is keeping a close eye on you.”

“How did you know?”

“Because you’re pulling away from her, and she’ll do anything to hold onto you.”

Draco looked like this insight into the female mind was revolutionary.“I may have miscalculated with Pansy.”

Rose turned away, and walked down the aisle a bit more, finding something to distract her from the pain.“I suppose you have to ‘keep up your cover’ a bit more than you expected.”

“I don’t like it,” he said. 

Rose rolled her eyes again.“I’m sure she’s wondering why you don’t just break up with her.You’re hurting her, Draco.”

“I know!”He raked his fingers through his hair.“I know.I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t know what the best thing to do is.”

Rose sighed dramatically, and threw a powdered wig at him.He dodged by stepping to one side.“You ask for help, you great big—“

“I can’t.There’s no one—“

“Ask _me!_ ”

Draco gave her a challenging look.“You want to help me give just enough to the Dark Lord to keep him satisfied until I come up with a plan to escape him?You want to help me help the Dark Lord, Rose? _You?_ ”

Rose shifted uncomfortably.“I want to help _you_.What are you doing?”

He rolled his eyes heavenward, and threw up his hands.“Fine.Just.Fine.”He walked back the way they came, and took a turn at the next intersection.Rose followed, and he stopped at a cabinet.“This is what I’m working on.”

Rose looked from him to the cabinet, and opened the door to peer inside.It was empty. 

“What is it?”

“It’s a Vanishing Cabinet.”

“What does it do?” she asked.Aside from the obvious. 

Draco explained how this cabinet had a twin.Montague had gotten stuck inside this one at Hogwarts for days, and had heard conversations in Borgin and Burkes, and Draco had put two and two together and somehow come up with Vanishing Cabinet.

Rose slapped his arm.“That’s why you were in that shop—“

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently.“That’s why I was there.I thought if I could get this one to work properly—“

“Then you could use it to get your parents out of the manor!”

Draco nodded.“But it’s broken.The spells were weakening before Montague got stuck, and when they pulled him out, the spellwork was ruined.I’ve got to figure out how to fix it.”

“How far have you gotten?”

“I looked up Vanishing spells in the library, and I tried to send things through.It doesn’t go well.”Draco selected a tiny glass vase from a nearby pile of junk, and put it inside the cabinet.He closed the door, waited a moment, and opened it again.The vase had been crushed into a neat pile of sand.Rose imagined a similar fate with a human being and shuddered. 

“All right, so you’ve got some work to do yet,” she said, bracingly.“How can I help?”

Draco shrugged.“Honestly, I don’t know.It’s too early for me to know what I need help with.I need help with everything at this point.But since you know as much as I do about how to fix this cabinet… well.”

Rose shrugged.“We can learn.Do you have any books I can read or—“

Draco gave her look that could only be described as _soft_.He took hold of her hand, and pulled her in close.She swallowed, because this kind of behavior was not allowed, but she wasn’t sure she had the will to stop him.He leaned in close, so close she could smell his cologne, and her eyes fluttered shut.He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.She trembled. 

“Thanks,” he said.“I’m glad you followed me.This is a whole lot less awful with you here.”

Rose let out the breath she’d been holding in a shaky rush, and summoned a smile.“You’re welcome.”


	22. Year Six, Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose is de-throned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? So quickly? What??

:: :: :: ::

Rose spent hours Saturday evening with Draco in the Room of Requirement.They sat side by side, casting revealing charms at the vanishing cabinet, and examining the colorful remains of broken spellwork.Not much progress was made, but Draco was excited about some of the charms they had deciphered from the mess.

Rose didn’t get to spend as much time with Draco as she would have liked, as they had some concerns that people would notice that she was not in the Gryffindor common room.There was a chance that Lavender or Parvati would gossip about it, and it wouldn’t take long for the news to get to Pansy, and from there it wouldn’t be difficult for Pansy to figure out that Rose had been missing the same time Draco was, and from there to figure that they had been alone together.Gossip in the castle was like a sentient being, and Draco didn’t want to test it.So Rose reluctantly left well before curfew, stopped at the library to find a book on revealing charms, and spent the evening in the common room with her friends.

She watched the drama that was Ron, Hermione, Lavender, and Cormac unfold.Lavender flirted outrageously, Ron blushed, and ran away.Hermione fumed, and then was angry that she felt jealous.Cormac tried boring pick up lines that Hermione didn’t even seem to notice.Lavender whispered with Parvati, heads together and giggling occasionally, as they watched Ron and Seamus play Exploding Snap. 

Ginny and Dean slipped away to snog, obvious to all but Ron.Ginny had no head for subterfuge, and Dean was no better.They came back to the common room an hour later, flushed, and bright eyed. 

Rose sat curled up in an armchair, peering over the top of her book, watching the spectacle.She wasn’t sure that her friends would have noticed her absence, given how caught up in their own drama they were.As it was, no one asked why she was reading a book on revealing charms when they weren’t even studying them in class. 

:: :: :: ::

On Sunday, Rose received a note from Professor Dumbledore, inviting her to visit his office that afternoon.Rose went with a sense of trepidation that was not unwarranted.Summons to the Headmaster’s office were usually accompanied by bad news and difficult conversations.

“I would like to speak with you again about horcruxes.Could you relate to me once more what Regulus Black told you in the afterlife?”

Rose felt a chill, and shivered.She did not like to dwell on her brush with death.

“I told you everything back then, Professor.I’m afraid there isn’t any more.”

“I should like to go over it once more, all the same.”

Rose nodded, and gathered her thoughts.

“Regulus said that Voldemort had entrusted him with one of his horcruxes: the locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin.Kreacher had it, and we swapped the real one out with a copy.I assume you’ve destroyed it?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore.“It was taken care of while you recovered from your ordeal.”

“Right, so, Regulus said Voldemort gave out horcruxes to his favorite Death Eaters, and instructed them to hide them.One of the others was given to Lucius Malfoy, the diary that Ginny was possessed by.”

“Did Regulus ever say who had care of the other horcruxes?”

“No.He didn’t even know that Lucius Malfoy had been given the diary.Ginny only figured out where the diary must have come from this summer.It had appeared with her school things, you see, and at the time she thought it had accidentally been slipped in with the other books, but later she remembered that her father and Lucius Malfoy had a fight that day in Diagon Alley.Malfoy picked up one of her school books for a moment, and she thinks that is when he gave the diary to her.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore, steepling his fingers and peering at her over the top of them.“Why do you suppose Malfoy gave away an object that he was meant to keep safe for Voldemort?”

Rose shrugged.“Voldemort was gone, and long dead, so far as he knew.Arthur Weasley was giving him trouble about dark artifacts back then.”

“And he wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets, because…”

“Because he’s a Pureblood fanatic?I doubt he actually knew about the basilisk, or even wanted anyone to be hurt.I think he just wanted Ginny to be caught with a dangerous Dark artifact, which would then throw suspicion onto Arthur Weasley.Maybe get him fired.I don’t think he would have knowingly endangered Draco that way.”

Dumbledore hummed at that.It was possible Rose was being too generous in her assessment of Lucius Malfoy, but he was, after all, Draco’s father.If nothing else, the Malfoys cared for each other fiercely, and Rose couldn’t fault them for that.

“To make more than one horcrux is quite a feat.It is incredibly dangerous to split a soul so many times.Did Regulus give you any indication of how many horcruxes Voldemort may have made?”

“No, but we figure it’s more than five and less than ten.Hermione thinks Voldemort would have wanted to make seven of them, as seven is a powerfully magical number and might stabilize the damage he was causing to himself.Three would have been better, as it’s also magically powerful, but there have to be more than that given what we know, and we think Voldemort would rather try for a more impressive number, like seven, rather than to be relatively safe at three.” 

Dumbledore just blinked at her, and so Rose went on.

“There was the diary,” she counted, holding up a finger.“The locket.Regulus said that I was one.Between the creation of the diary, with his first murder of Moaning Myrtle, and when he attempted to murder me, there’s nearly forty years.I don’t think there’s any way I was only his third attempt at making a horcrux.

“Also, he has to commit the murder himself, for it to be used to split his soul and make a horcrux, so we have also been researching his victims.”

“There are many,” said Dumbledore softly.

“But not all of them meant something to him personally.Like with wanting to kill me, and use my murder for a horcrux, it was all tied in with the prophecy, and him believing that I would be the one to kill him.It would have been a murder that had great meaning to him.And that would also have made the horcrux itself more powerful - not just a receptacle for a part of his soul, but something like the diary, which was powerful enough to communicate, and think, and plot an escape.There’s no reason that a horcrux should be able to steal the life force from a living person, like the diary was doing to Ginny.That’s special Voldemort-murder magic.”

“My goodness.What else have you and your friends reasoned out?”

“That his appearance changed with each horcrux he made.He became less and less human.There aren’t a whole lot of photographs taken of him before the rise of his Death Eaters.We’ve been combing through back issues of the Daily Prophet, but haven’t had much luck.He wasn’t very news worthy before he started killing people.But by the time he shows up for the first time in the 1960’s his appearance had changed dramatically from his Hogwarts days.We think think he must have made at least five horcruxes to have altered so much.”

Dumbledore regarded her with some surprise.“You and your friends seem to have been speaking quite a bit about horcruxes.”

“We’ve been studying them all summer,” said Rose.

Dumbledore actually sat back in his seat at that.“And where did you come across information about horcruxes over the summer?They are not exactly common knowledge.”

Rose felt like everyone was missing the point.“Regulus told me where his book on horcruxes was hidden.And the Black family library is very well stocked.They liked their Dark Magic, the Blacks.Lots of useful information.They even had a biography of Herpo the Foul, the ancient Greek wizard who first created a horcrux.That filled in a lot of blanks.”Rose shivered.Foul was probably too kind a word to describe Herpo.

“I was under the impression that the house had been purged of anything dark,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.

Rose shrugged lightly.“I kept anything that looked useful.Sentimental things that I could use to bribe the house elf.The books.Hermione would have cried if I’d let Sirius throw any books away.And no one goes up to the attic.”

Dumbledore chuckled.“I must admit to being surprised.”

“We just wanted to know everything we could.We need to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“For Voldemort.I’m supposed to vanquish him?”She made a stabbing motion.

Dumbledore looked surprised again, and then sad.

“Oh, my dear girl.We should have spoken long ago.The prophecy has been fulfilled, or perhaps, thwarted.”

“What do you mean?”

“The link between you and Voldemort, the horcrux he accidentally placed within you, was destroyed that day at the Ministry when he cast the Killing Curse upon you.You are now free of him.There is no reason that it must be you who destroys him now.”

Rose stared at him for a moment, baffled.“I don’t understand…”

“I’m saying that there is no reason for an old man to endanger a young girl unnecessarily.Before, yes, destroying Voldemort may have fallen on your shoulders, but now everything is different, Rose.”

“But he still wants to kill me.”

“He doesn’t know that we know about the horcruxes, and he still does not know what the link between the two of you was.He believes in the prophecy.He believes completely that you will be his downfall, and we want him to keep believing that.”

Rose stared at nothing.“So.If he’s only looking at me, he won’t be looking out for you.”

“Or anyone else who may come to destroy him.We want to keep him distracted as long as possible.Once the horcruxes are discovered and destroyed, he will only be a man, and at that point—“

“Anyone could kill him.”

“Indeed.”

Rose felt like getting to her feet and pacing the room, but kept her seat.“What should I do?”

Dumbledore got to his feet and gestured for her to do the same.He walked around the desk and put his hand on her shoulder, and led her toward the door.“You, Miss Potter, get to live, free of the weight of such a responsibility.You get to be young.I admit to some jealousy on that score.”

He smiled, like Rose was being given a great gift.Why then, did she feel like something had been stolen from her?

“I want to help.”

“Good, the Order could use a mind like yours.As well as Misses Granger and Weasley.You would all be incredible assets, clearly.But not until you are of age, with NEWT scores under your belts.”

“Sir—“

“Though I do hope Voldemort will be vanquished long before that date.With luck you children need never see war at all.”

Rose didn’t know what to say.She wanted to rail at him, to demand to have her place back.She was meant to be… _The Chosen One_.But now The Chosen One could be anyone.And Rose felt like to argue for such a spot would be stupid.No one wants to be held up on a pedestal for something they hasn’t even done yet, and aren’t sure they can even do.If she asked to be up there it would be foolish.The Chosen One, what a joke.She’d just been unceremoniously de-throned.Told that her position there was nothing but a sham, a smokescreen to keep Voldemort distracted by the shiny Rose Potter, while in the shadows, the Order took care of everything important.

She should be glad.She should be grateful and relieved.Instead she felt like a fraud.Like once she walked out of Dumbledore’s office everyone would see her for who she really was.Not the Girl Who Lived, the Chosen One, or the Girl Who Wouldn’t Die, but Rose Potter, shallow and pretty, but not good for much else.She blinked away sudden tears, and gathered herself.

“Sir, there’s something else I wanted to speak with you about.”

“What is that, Miss Potter?”

“Draco Malfoy.He’s in trouble, and —“

“I am aware of Mr. Malfoy’s situation.Rest assured I have looked into it, and will keep an eye on him.”

“Sir, he needs help now.”

“And we shall give it to him if he asks for it.”

“But he won’t.He’s too stubborn, and I’m afraid that he’s going to do something awful.”

Dumbledore patted her shoulder.“All will be well, my dear.I assure you.”

That seemed to be all she would get from Dumbledore on the subject.Rose thanked him quietly, and exited down the staircase.At the bottom, she gulped a breath, startled by how upset she felt.Her breaths came quickly and shook her chest.She dashed tears from her eyelashes with her fingers.The griffin that guarded Dumbledore’s staircase turned its head to gaze at her, and she thought it looked disappointed.

She couldn’t bear the weight of the griffin’s stare any longer, and was relieved when she exited to the hallway.It was deserted, thank Merlin, and she walked quickly down the corridor, trying not to cry.She arrived at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and began to pace before the door to the Room of Requirement.

She required a place a hide.

The door appeared, and Rose flew at it, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind her.She stood there, back to the door, and sucked in a noisy breath.She felt as though she’d been stripped bare, and stabbed in all of her vulnerable places.Like she’d been torn to pieces, and what was left she couldn’t even identify.She began to sob in earnest, sliding down the door to sit on the floor.She curled into herself, knees to her chest, and cried.

What would the wizarding world say about her now? 

A litany of terrible nicknames popped into her thoughts.Rose Potter, the Girl Who Lived to Do Nothing of Any Importance, Actually.The Un-Chosen One.Rose Potter, who?She would be a joke, a laughingstock.They would say that she had fooled them.Tricked them. 

But why should she care what they think?She was just a teenager, and really, it was horrible of them to expect so much from her.Dumbledore was doing the right thing.This was a problem for adult wizards and witches, and shame on them for heaping it on a child’s shoulders. 

Why did she want the responsibility back?

…foolish, silly, fame-obsessed Rose Potter.

Because she _liked_ it.She liked the attention.She liked being special, in a world filled with magical people.Merlin, she was just as shallow and stupid as they’d ever said when public opinion had turned on her.A disappointment. 

She cried harder. 

What was she meant to do now?Pretend to be The Chosen One, to be bigger and more noticeable than ever, to keep Voldemort occupied?And while she was out being a distraction, other people were doing the real work that would destroy him? 

The fact was, Rose wanted to be the one to do it.She had been preparing herself for just that possibility ever since she had heard the prophecy, and while she was terrified by the idea, she liked it too.Destroying the monster that killed your parents?That must be every orphan’s fantasy.Didn’t Rose have the right to her revenge? 

Many people had been harmed by Voldemort, though, she reminded herself, sniffling.She had just been the last in the first war.Why should she get a crack at him when none of those people did? 

And that was even assuming they were able to defeat him at all.What if Voldemort had another fail safe in place?What if he had more than the seven horcruxes they’d assumed?What if they failed to find them all?What if he won?What would the wizarding world do if he killed her?Would they believe all hope was lost?Would they stop fighting? 

There had to be something she could do.Even if it was something small.She knew she could never sit back and allow others to handle Voldemort.

She wiped her face, wincing as her fingers came away smudged black.Her mascara must have run.At least she was done crying now.She got to her feet, and looked around the Room of Hidden Things.Surely there was a mirror and something she could use as a handkerchief around here somewhere?

A table top three rows back and two across yielded a mirror.Rose winced as she took in her spectacular case of raccoon eyes.Black below and red rimmed, and her face red and blotchy.She wiped away the mascara with her sleeve, thankful her robes were black.She fluffed her hair, and fanned her face to help the red go away faster.Her appearance in the mirror was deemed acceptable for the time being, and she decided that she would wander around a bit to give her face some time to lose the redness that gave away that she had been crying.Also, she could use the distraction. 

A tennis racket, two large eggs (possibly from a dragon), and a sparkly tiara later, Rose stopped thinking about herself and started thinking about Draco.Dumbledore had basically patted her head, and told her not to worry her pretty self about it.So there would be no help from that quarter, not until Draco took himself to Dumbledore.And Merlin knew when that would happen. 

Rose idly arranged the junk lying about into a silly tableaux.The tiara went on top of a bust of Shakespeare, and she crossed the tennis racket with a pogo stick on the table before them.She looked around for other items to complete the picture, and found a powdered wig on the floor.She remembered throwing it at Draco yesterday.The tiara came off the bust and she set it onto her own head for a moment, because of course she did, while she arranged the wig carefully on the Bard’s head. 

The wig looked good, but more important now was checking her own reflection to see how this particular tiara looked on her head.She was something of a tiara aficionado, after all.That was one claim to fame that no one could take from her.She walked back to the mirror, feeling a stirring of unease that made no logical sense.It was likely some kind of magical interference, she thought, from the confluence of so many mis-placed and mis-spelled objects in one room. 

Now that was a weird thought to have.Where had she heard that about magical interference?

A look in the mirror and she concluded the tiara didn’t look quite right.It sat all wrong on her hair, and so she tried flipping it the other way round, so the point came down between her eyebrows, and the hoop settled more firmly around her head.It wasn’t meant to sit on the crown of the head, but to settle in the middle of the forehead.It looked stupid on Rose though.She wore a fringe to cover her scar, and the circlet looked silly sitting over her hair, and making it stick out at odd angles.She fiddled with her hair, pushing her fringe behind her ears, and setting the circlet down so her hair was pinned to the side, and the large blue gem in the center touched her skin.

The feeling was incredibly abrupt, like her mind was suddenly cracked open wide, and in a panic she quickly flung the tiara off her head.The feeling ceased just as quickly, and the tiara clattered on the floor, spinning wildly where it landed before it settled.

She stood frozen in place for a moment, hand over her pounding heart.She looked herself over in the mirror, but there had been no physical changes.Thank Merlin.She really ought to be more careful with the objects in this room.Merlin knows what kind of powers they might have.She approached the tiara with care, like it was a spider, and prodded it with the toe of her shoe.Nothing happened.Nothing had happened until she had put it properly onto her head, so it was probably safe enough to pick it up. 

In her hands once more, she looked it over more carefully.It was silver and delicate, the main circlet accented with fine sweeps of metal in beautiful shapes.In the center there was a large blue oval sapphire.An inscription was on the band, and it read, _Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure_.

There was something familiar about it.At the moment, the tiara felt benign, almost friendly, but the familiar part felt like slime.A dark, creeping sensation, and it reminded Rose of Tom Riddle’s diary. 

There was a wooden box filled with Muggle coins nearby.Rose relieved the box of the coins before putting the tiara inside of it.Once the lid was shut, she felt immeasurably better.Like a spider had been trapped beneath a glass.It couldn’t get her anymore.

Rose didn’t dare think the word for what she thought the tiara was, because what were the odds?What were the chances that she would find one?Here, at Hogwarts, and on this day? 

She needed a second opinion.

:: :: :: ::

Rose tore Ginny from Dean’s lap, and Hermione from her homework.She shut them in the dormitory with her, making certain that Lavender and Parvati were not hiding anywhere, locking the door and pulling the curtains shut.She even checked under the beds.

“What’s the deal, Paranoid Posy?” asked Ginny, miffed at having precious snogging time thwarted.

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, arms crossed.She looked concerned at Rose’s behavior.

Rose stood between them, box in her hands.“I might be crazy.Just… is this what I think it is?”

She opened the box, and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione reached for it, and drew her fingers back just as Rose warned, “Just don’t put it on your head.”

Hermione nodded, and examined it with care.

“The inscription,” Hermione said.“That’s the motto of Ravenclaw House.”

Ginny peered into the box, and touched the sapphire with the tip of one finger.“It’s pretty… is that…” She jerked back as though burned.“Merlin!”She backed across the room, away from the box, face rapidly gone pale.“Where the hell did you get that?”

Rose let out a breath.“I’m not crazy, then.I thought it felt like the diary.”

“This is a horcrux?” said Hermione.She looked intrigued for all of two seconds, before sanity overcame intellectual curiosity, and she set the box down onto the bed, carefully.“You should have said.”

“I wanted to be sure I wasn’t imagining it,” said Rose. 

Ginny made a face and wrapped her arms around herself, as though she felt a chill.“It shouldn’t be here.What do we do with it?”

“Where did you find it?” asked Hermione.

“It was in the Room of Requirement.”

“Handy,” said Ginny, color coming back to her face.“You ‘required’ to destroy Tom, and the Room helped you out.I love that Room.”

“I guess I was thinking about that,” Rose said, with a frown.It was a bit incredible that the Room had assisted her, even when she was having a breakdown.“I found it in a room that is filled with hidden things.I suppose Voldemort must have hidden it in there at some point.”

“It’s too bad our supply of basilisk venom is at Grimmauld Place,” said Hermione.“We could have destroyed the horcrux immediately.”

“We could always owl the twins to send more,” said Ginny.

“It wouldn’t make it past the mail searches,” said Hermione.“Surely such a strong poison would set off the Dark Detectors.”

“We can’t keep it here.I won’t sleep knowing it’s in the Tower,” said Ginny.

“I suppose we should take it to Dumbledore,” said Hermione, and she lit up.“You just had a meeting with him, didn’t you, Rose?”

“Yes, and he asked me about horcruxes.”

“What did he want to know?”

Rose shrugged.“I told him all the things we’d learned about them, and our theories about the ones that we haven’t discovered.”

“Did you learn anything new?”

“Only that I am apparently no longer of any use to the war effort, now that I am minus one bit of Voldemort’s soul.”

“What?”

Rose explained what Dumbledore had told her, about the prophecy, and about how she was free of the responsibility of defeating Voldemort.By the end, Hermione was frowning, and Ginny was scowling and had her wand in hand, like she was thinking about hexes.

“That’s bullshit,” said Ginny, when she was finished.

“He has a point,” said Hermione.“They’re adults.Fully trained witches and wizards.There’s no reason that they should expect teenagers to take down a powerful Dark wizard.”

“I don’t like it,” said Ginny.“It feels like all of our research was stolen, and we’ve been cast aside.”

“Dumbledore did look surprised that we’d figured out so much,” said Rose.

“But we’re all on the same side,” said Hermione.“We all want the same thing, and what does it matter if we aren’t the ones who have to destroy him in the end?That would be terrifying, anyhow, to go up against V-Voldemort on our own?This is probably better.”

Ginny kicked at the post of Rose’s bed, arms crossed.“Still.”

They were all three of them quiet and sullen for a moment, lost in thought.

“But who’s to say it will go the way Dumbledore expects?” said Rose.“We still need to be ready.Because like today, it might be _us_ that finds the other horcruxes.And it’s not like Voldemort got the memo that I’m not the Chosen One.He’s not going to leave us alone.

“And we don’t know who else Dumbledore has told about the horcruxes.We don’t know what he knows, or if they have found any and destroyed them.For all we know, this one here is the last one.”

They looked as one at the box.

“So what do we do with it?” said Ginny.

“We have to give it to the Order,” said Hermione.“We’re on the same side, and besides, it would be dangerous to keep it here for any length of time.What if someone else found it?”

Rose knew Hermione was right, but she was miffed with Dumbledore.

“All right, we’ll give it to the Headmaster.But can we show off a bit when we hand it over to him?”

Ginny grinned.“Rub it in his old man face that a bunch of teenage girls have done what his precious Order couldn’t do?”

“We’re all on the same side,” said Hermione again.She couldn’t hold up the scolding tone though, and her expression turned sly.“Though, I don’t like that all of my research has been cast aside.”

Ginny and Rose grinned at her.

“Right,” said Rose, clapping her hands together.“We’re going to need a big red ribbon.”

:: :: :: ::

“The thing is, Headmaster, we don’t feel that we can sit this out,” said Rose, an hour later.Between them on Dumbledore’s desk sat the wooden box, topped with a Gryffindor scarlet bow, open to reveal the long lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, which was enchanted to imbue the wearer with greater intelligence (apparently), unfortunately infested with a bit of Lord Voldemort’s soul.

“We want to be involved,” said Ginny.

“And we would like it very much if you would keep us updated on your progress in the search for the other horcruxes,” said Hermione.

Dumbledore smiled at them, bemused and beatific.“I see the value in keeping you all ‘in the loop,’ as they say.You have more than proved your worth.”He summoned a blue notepad, and an elaborate self-inking peacock quill.“Miss Granger, you may wish to take notes.”

Hermione beamed, and happily took the offered items.“Thank you, Headmaster.”She flipped to an open page, and readied herself to write down everything.

“Then we must begin with this,” said Dumbledore, and from his desk he took a very old looking heavy gold ring.In the setting there was a large black stone with a strange etching in the center.It was cracked down the middle.“This, my dear girls, is horcrux number five.”

Dumbledore told them the story of how he came to find the ring.He had hunted down memories from people who had known Tom Riddle when he was young, and people who had unfortunately encountered him whilst he was on his horcrux creating spree.The ring came from Tom Riddle’s mother’s family: a Gaunt family heirloom.Tom Riddle stole the ring from the last living member of the Gaunt family, and then used the murder of his Muggle father and grandparents to fuel the horcrux.It had been hidden in the house where the Gaunts had once lived under layers of protection, where Dumbledore had retrieved it.

“It must have been very powerful,” said Hermione.

“Quite,” said Dumbledore.“And there were considerable enchantments placed upon it.I am afraid that I did not come away clean from the retrieval of this item.”He shook his sleeve back, and revealed that his hand had been severely damaged.It was blackened and withered.It looked as though it had been badly burned in a fire.The girls gasped.

“Are you all right, sir?” asked Rose.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked over his hand.“The damage is permanent, but I feel no pain.I shall live out the remainder of my life with it.”He smiled, and Rose let out a breath, relieved.Hermione wore a tiny frown. 

“I am afraid that is all I know about the horcruxes.I have a suspicion, now strengthened by the item you have just brought to me, that it may be another item that belonged to one of the founders.Hufflepuff, most likely.

“As for the last, I believe that Voldemort created it after he was returned to his body after the Triwizard Tournament.He has an unusual fondness for his snake, Nagini.”

“You think he purposefully made a living being into a horcrux this time?” said Hermione.“It seems like a dangerous vessel to choose.”

“He keeps Nagini at his side always, and he is the only known person who speaks Parseltongue.Miss Potter’s powers faded once the horcrux was gone from her body.I think Nagini is as safe as he can make her.It is only speculation, but a good guess, I think.”

The girls nodded. 

“Well, then,” said Rose.

“Two to go,” said Ginny.


	23. Year Six, Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Slug Club meets, Quidditch Captains pick themselves, Draco has a fit about mittens, the kids go to Hogsmeade, and someone doesn't come back.

:: :: :: ::

In Potions class on Monday, Rose handed her borrowed book back to Slughorn. Her shiny new replacement copy arrived that morning at breakfast from Flourish and Blotts. Ron turned in his borrowed book too, though with a shifty look in his eye. Slughorn hardly glanced at the books, depositing them on a shelf and getting on with the lesson.

Once again, Ron brewed the best potion in class, and Slughorn went into ecstasies over the color and texture and Ron’s sheer potions _genius_. Hermione looked baffled at being beaten again, and looked between her own potion and Ron’s like there was something she was missing.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “I followed the directions _exactly_.”

“I did too,” said Ron. He flipped his book closed and nudged it away with his elbow. “I’ve no idea how they’re coming out this good.”

Hermione made a noise like ‘humph,’ and turned away from him. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty, and stole glances at Hermione.

“I don’t understand it!” Hermione said to Rose later. “How is he suddenly so good at Potions? He was never this good before.”

“Perhaps he’s been studying,” said Rose, who had more than once seen Ron with his nose buried in _Moste Potente Potions_ over the past week.

“I’ve been studying too!” said Hermione. “And I followed the directions exactly! I know I did.”

“Ron must have done something different. Or maybe the ingredients he got were just better.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, my ingredients were fresh, I’m sure of it.”

Rose threw up her hands. “Then I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“I don’t like not knowing things,” said Hermione.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” said Rose, putting her arm around Hermione’s shoulders, and giving her a little hug. “But here’s a silver lining! Ron being so brilliant meant that Slughorn invited Ron to the Slug Club Dinner, and there’s no way Lavender will get an invite to that. You’ll have at least one place where you are guaranteed to be with Ron in a Lavender-free space. Won’t that be nice?”

Hermione smothered a smile, and elbowed Rose in the side. “Shut up,” she said. “I don’t even like him.”

“ _Sure_ you don’t,” said Rose.

Hermione put her nose in the air, and walked away. Very quickly. 

:: :: :: ::

And at last, there was Quidditch. Katie Bell was their new Captain, and she had holes to fill on the team. Rose was back as seeker, Ron Weasley was reprising his role as keeper, and Ginny would be chasing with Katie. They were still short two beaters and a chaser, and the tryouts were held on Saturday.

There were dozens of hopeful Gryffindors milling on the Quidditch pitch by the time Rose and Ginny arrived straight after breakfast. 

Katie Bell stood on the sidelines with a clipboard, appraising the candidates. Rose and Ginny sidled up to her, and Rose peered at the clipboard. The Captain’s badge was fixed to the top of the board, pinning blank sheets of paper down.

“Good turnout, eh, _mon Capitaine?_ ” said Rose. 

Katie shrugged, and looked nervous. “I hope so. I really didn’t expect to be made captain, and I don’t want to let the house down.”

“Aw, Katie—“

“Why wasn’t it you?” Katie said, tapping her foot anxiously.

“You’ve been on the team longest,” said Rose. “And you’re a seventh year. You’ve got seniority.”

“And no head for leading,” she said. “I don’t want to be like Angie was last year. She got so bossy.”

“Do you really not want to be captain, Katie?” said Ginny. 

Katie shook her head. “I’ve got NEWTs. Being on the team is one thing, but doing the playbook? Scouting out the other teams for weaknesses? I don’t have time for that. But I couldn’t turn McGonagall down.”

“What if you were… deposed?” said Ginny, smirking.

Ron came up to the three of them, munching on an apple. “Morning, team.”

“Katie doesn’t want to be captain,” said Ginny.

Ron grinned. “I’ll do it.”

Ginny frowned. “I want to do it.”

“Ooh,” said Rose, clapping her hands together, “Weasley co-captains!”

Katie grinned, and shoved the clipboard at Ginny and Ron. “All in favor of Weasley co-captains, say aye!” She raised her hand in the air, bouncing.

“Aye!” said Katie and Rose as one.

Ginny and Ron eyed each other, speculative.

“You do offense, and I’ll take defense?” said Ron. 

“Obviously,” said Ginny. 

“All right then,” said Ron. He reached for the clipboard, but Ginny got there first. She swiped the badge, and gave the clipboard to Ron. She was gleeful as she fixed the badge to her shirt. 

“We’re sharing that too,” warned Ron. Ginny looked like he’d have to steal it from her.

“Weasley co-captains!” Rose cheered. “That is so Gryffindor.”

Ginny put on a serious expression, and solemnly shook Ron’s hand. Ron rolled his eyes, and they turned as one to the pitch.

“All right everybody,” yelled Ron.

“Listen up!” said Ginny.

“We’re going to have beater hopefuls over here—“

“And chasers over there—“

Rose watched as the Gryffindors went to opposite ends of the pitch. An odd assortment of candidates, to be sure, but they’d surely work out a good team.

Katie threw an arm around Rose’s shoulders, and sighed in relief. “Thank Merlin for Weasleys. I’ll pass my NEWTs, and Gryffindor will have a chance at winning the cup.”

“Yeah, Ron’s good with strategy, and Ginny loves yelling at people. It’s perfect.”

Katie laughed, giddy. “I am so relieved, I can’t even tell you.”

“You would have been a good captain.”

“Maybe,” said Katie, doubtfully. “But this is much better.”

It was nearly lunchtime when tryouts wrapped up, and Ron and Ginny announced their choices for the team. Demelza Robbins joined Ginny and Katie as a chaser, and Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote were chosen to be their new beaters. 

:: :: :: ::

Rose and her friends ran into Professor Slughorn on their way into dinner.

“Ah, just the ladies I was hoping to see!” he said. “I wanted to catch you before dinner. What do you say to a spot of supper in my rooms this evening? I’ve invited some other students along as well. We’ll have dinner and a bit of conversation.”

The girls looked between each other, and as neither Ginny nor Hermione were putting off, ‘no way’ vibes, Rose said, “Sounds good, Professor. Thank you!”

Slughorn chuckled, and put his finger to the side of his nose and then pointed at the girls. “Excellent, excellent! Seven o’clock! Don’t be late.” He ambled away. 

The girls continued up the stairs to Gryffindor dormitory. 

“Who else do you think he invited?” asked Hermione.

“Definitely not Lavender,” said Rose.

Hermione slapped her arm. “I wasn’t thinking about them.”

“Uh huh. Sure you weren’t,” said Ginny. “Anyway, he invited Ron ages ago, didn’t he? And it’s not like Ron would pass up on a second dinner.”

:: :: :: ::

Slughorn’s office was larger than any other teacher’s office Rose had ever visited. It was very nearly as large as the whole Gryffindor common room. She suspected he’d used magic to expand the place. There was a cozy sitting area by a large fireplace, a desk by a wide window that looked out over the lake, and in the center there was a large round table, with a number of chairs. There were several closed doors that presumably led to a bathroom and bedroom, and perhaps, Rose thought a private room in which Slughorn could brew potions. 

There were a few people milling around the room when the girls arrived. They were warmly greeted by Slughorn. Also present were Cormac McLaggen, Blaise Zabini, and Melinda Bobbin, a seventh year Ravenclaw who Rose only knew in passing. There came another knock on the door, and Ron stood there, panting a bit, as though he’d ran part of the way.

“Sorry, I’m late, Professor,” he said.

“Not at all, my boy,” said Slughorn. “Not at all. Come in. There are refreshments on the sideboard.”

Cormac offered to get them drinks, and asked them what they preferred. He made Hermione a glass of water, and Rose and Ginny selected their own bottles of butterbeer. 

Slughorn urged them all to take seats at the table, and dinner appeared just as it did in the Great Hall. 

“Excellent!” he said. “Tuck in!”

Over the meal, Slughorn told them that when he was a teacher in the past he liked to throw these little dinner parties twice a month, once just for members, and the second he liked to invite a former student to visit. He explained how he had gotten many a favored student an excellent job opportunity based on the results of these dinners, and how he had seen in them a brilliance that he thought deserved a leg up. 

Melinda Bobbin had sat up straighter in her chair, and Cormac looked politely interested. Blaise seemed like he was calculating just how much of a leg up Slughorn could offer and deciding whether it was worth it to be here two Saturdays a month for the rest of the school year. Ron was frowning a little, though Rose couldn’t have guessed why. Hermione and Ginny interested, but skeptical. Rose was willing to take a chance. It wasn’t as though Slughorn would hurt her chances of getting a job. Whatever that might be, because Rose still hadn’t sorted out her career aspirations yet, and was reluctant to do so with the specter of Voldemort hanging over her head.

At any rate, they ate dinner and had a little chat. Melinda Bobbin suffered the same interrogation that others had suffered on the train, and they learned that Melinda was quite talented at Potions. Melinda was thin with dark hair, and a narrow face. She looked perpetually serious, dark eyes gazing over them all with an air of assessment. 

Ron also was questioned, but not as thoroughly, as Slughorn had undoubtedly gone over the high points of his parentage with Ginny. 

And for the rest of the evening as they sat around and chatted, while certain people tried to arrange their romantic lives. Cormac blatantly hit on Hermione, and was politely rebuffed every time. Ron grew increasingly red in the face with each flirtatious comment, and looked moments away from hexing McLaggen. Blaise tried to flirt with Ginny, and was amused by her vicious put downs. Melinda Bobbin was Rose’s only port in the storm, and Melinda looked not at all entertained by the hormones running rampant, and seemed to have written Rose off. If Draco had been present, that would be one thing, but as he wasn’t even nearby…

They left Slughorn’s rooms in high spirits. A pack of Gryffindors, and a lone Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Melinda left the group with barely a wave over her shoulder. Blaise lingered until it made no sense for him to walk with them any longer, and turned back to Slytherin. Ginny stormed off ahead, in a lather over having to deal with Blaise all evening. Cormac lingered near Hermione, and so Ron did too. Hermione, finally having had enough, took Rose’s arm and steered them into a girls restroom, and told the boys to go on ahead. They waited behind the door for a few minutes, until they were certain the boys actually had gone. 

“What did you think?” asked Hermione, as they walked blissfully alone back to Gryffindor Tower.

Rose shrugged. “It was all right. I expect it will be more fun when Slughorn brings old students to talk to us.”

“Do you think he will really be able to get us job opportunities?”

“I don’t know. I suppose he could have such connections.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Do you think it’s unfair that we’ve been offered this help?”

“Of course it is,” said Rose. “But on the other hand, no one else has to go to a dinner twice a month, and watch five of the eight people in the room get hit on. Or be hit on. Or otherwise try to arrange romantic interludes.”

Hermione made a face. “McLaggen is rather obvious. I wish he would stop.”

“Shall we hex him? Someone will have to do something before Ron starts throwing punches.”

“Ron wasn’t going to do anything like that,” said Hermione. 

“He’s not so well mannered as your rose colored glasses seem to think,” teased Rose. “He would have knocked McLaggen’s teeth in, and good on Ron. I hate that guy.”

Hermione nudged her, a comforting gesture. She knew what McLaggen had done to inspire Rose’s painful breakup with George. 

“I don’t know why he keeps trying,” said Hermione. “I’m not being encouraging at all, am I?”

“No, but you’re not shutting him down either,” said Rose. 

“Ginny was shutting Zabini down all night, and that didn’t work on him.”

“Zabini likes it when Ginny is mean to him,” said Rose. “He thinks it’s a kind of flirting.”

“Do you think Ginny thinks it’s flirting?”

“Yes,” said Rose. “That’s why she hates it so much. It’s why she’s so angry right now. She’s been flirting all night, and she feels guilty.”

“So strange,” said Hermione, musing. “What do you think Cormac would do if I said something like that to him?”

Rose shrugged. “He might back off… but he’d probably make up a mean rumor about you afterwards.”

They thought about that for awhile in silence.

“Boys suck,” said Hermione. 

“Yes, they do.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose bundled up for Hogsmeade, and left the Gryffindor common room with her pocket full of galleons. She was going to do some damage to her bank account balance today. She headed towards the library to pick up Hermione. 

An arm shot out from behind a tapestry, and dragged her behind it.

Rose opened her mouth to scream, until she saw who her kidnapper was. She smacked Draco’s arm instead. “You could have said, ‘Hey, Rose, come here.’”

Draco wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed her hands and inspected her gloves. 

“What are you doing?”

“They’re knitted,” he said. “Knitted!”

“They’re warm?” said Rose, mystified. “What’s wrong with knitting, now?”

Draco shook his head darkly, and pulled the gloves from her hands. “I need these,” he said shortly. “Here, take mine.”

“What?”

He forced his gloves onto her hands. They were made of sleek black leather, and lined with soft fur. Probably the fur of innocent baby bunnies. They were tailored to fit his hands, and were large on Rose.

“Why?” she said.

“Don’t take them off,” Draco said. “Not until you get back to the castle.”

Rose blinked at him, and then sighed. “Draco, I am going shopping. I am going to be trying on clothes, and perusing the bookstore, and having lunch at the Three Broomsticks. These gloves are going to come off. They are going to come off often, and likely won’t go back on my hands until I walk back to the castle, with my hands full of shopping bags. Now, why are you making me wear these gloves, and why don’t you want me to take them off?”

Draco swallowed hard. “Please don’t take them off.”

They had a staring contest. Rose noted that Draco looked stressed. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it, and his eyes were tired. 

“Won’t you tell me why?”

“No.”

“Are you coming to Hogsmeade?”

“I can’t,” he said. “I have detention with McGonagall, and she’s checking off the permission slips, so there’s no way I can get past her.”

“What did you do to get detention?”

“Late assignments. It doesn’t matter,” he said, growing impatient. “Look, Rose, I need you to do something for me today.”

“I’m already wearing the gloves, Draco.”

“It’s important. I left something at the Three Broomsticks. Madame Rosemerta is going to give you a package. Don’t open it. Don’t touch what is inside. Just bring it back to the castle.”

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just. Please?”

“Tell me what it is. Is it something dark? Is it a Portkey?”

“It’s not a Portkey. It’s not— It doesn’t matter what it is. I just need you to take it, and bring it back to the castle. All right?”

“If it’s something dangerous Filch and McGonagall will take it from me at the gates.” 

“Fine,” he said. “That’s fine. They can take it if they want. Just get it from Madam Rosemerta.”

“Draco—“

“Lives depend on it.” He looked deadly serious.

“Is this something we’re doing to hold Voldemort off a little while longer?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was choked.

Rose dug her nails into her palms, which was not as satisfying with his gloves on her hands. She took a breath. “So I pick up the package, and then let Filch or McGonagall take it at the gates?”

He nodded. “The more people who see you have the package taken away the better.” So it would get back to Voldemort more quickly, and could be confirmed by more than one witness.

“No one gets hurt?”

He shook his head. “No. So long as no one touches what is inside the package.”

Rose took off the gloves, folded them neatly together, and put them in her pocket. She considered the situation for a moment.

“How much trouble am I going to get into for having this thing?”

He didn’t answer, but his expression spoke volumes.

Rose rolled her eyes, and made to walk away. Draco caught her arm and pulled her back. He pulled her all the way into his arms, their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. She felt a thrill down into the pit of her stomach at being so close to him again. He looked terrible up close, desperate, and Rose wasn’t sure if she wanted to hex him or hug him.

“Dammit, Draco,” she swore.

His mouth turned down, and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “M’sorry. I can’t think of a better way.”

She sighed, because maybe together they could have come up with something, if only he would tell her what he was meant to be doing for Voldemort. It was likely too late for that now. 

“I’ll do it.”

He made to kiss her, but she ducked her chin. He kissed her forehead instead, lingering long enough that Rose could feel him tremble. 

“Thank you.”

“I expect re-payment,” she said, exasperated.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

She popped up on her toes, and whispered against his lips, “Break up with Pansy.”

He chased her for a kiss that she dodged, leaning way back on his arm, and he laughed like he couldn’t help it. He dragged her in close again, and said in her ear, “Anything you want.”

She shivered as his breath stirred the fine hairs on her neck. She felt dizzy, immersed in Draco. His arms were warm and strong around her, and he smelled _so_ incredibly good. Rose turned her face into his, and kissed him. She parted her lips, their breath mingled and she licked into his mouth. Heat poured through her, like warm honey, as Draco took eager advantage, chasing her tongue back into her mouth. She lost herself in the kiss for a long moment, before sanity returned. She ripped herself away with a gasp, putting feet of cold air between them.

“Bad Rose,” she scolded herself.

“Come back here,” Draco said, voice rough. He reached for her.

Rose shook her head, and pushed through the tapestry out into the empty hallway beyond. Her nerves felt like they were electrified. She fixed her clothes, tugging the hem of her shirt down, and finger combed her hair into place. She felt flustered, disheveled, like she’d been rumpled all over during their brief encounter.

She heard Draco groan on the other side of the tapestry. She wondered if he would follow her out. She stood there, trying to catch her breath, waiting.

“Don’t forget the gloves,” he said instead.

Rose wilted a little in disappointment, and was glad that he couldn’t see her through the tapestry.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t tell anyone I asked you to do it, all right?”

:: :: :: ::

Putting Draco’s mysterious errand to the back of her mind, Rose found Hermione in the library. The weather was terrible, and Rose had a hard time convincing her to leave the cozy, book filled warmth of the library. Hermione was more enthusiastic about a shopping trip after promising a lengthy trip to the bookshop. Rose had brought along Hermione’s cloak and purse, as she was sure she would be able to convince her friend, so there was no need to go back to the tower to fetch Hermione’s things. Most of the students going to Hogsmeade had left just after breakfast, so they were on their own on the walk to the village. 

It was bitterly cold, and the wind was the sort that stole the breath, and challenged even the best warming charms. Hermione was grumpy by the time they got to town, and wasn’t thrilled that Rose’s first stop was Gladrags. Rose couldn’t help that it was simply the closest store when they entered town, could she? Anyway, there was no reason for Hermione to complain. It was a shop, and they were out of the cold and the wind. What more could one ask for?

Rose was determined that she wouldn’t keep Hermione in here for hours though - she wasn’t that cruel - and so aggressively shopped the store, combing quickly through racks of robes, jumpers, dresses, and shirts. She grabbed anything that caught her eye, and headed for the dressing room. She found Hermione again, poking around the socks, and Hermione rolled her eyes at the size of the pile of clothes Rose was dragging to the dressing room.

“I’ll be two seconds!” she assured.

Hermione scoffed. “Thirty minutes, more like.”

“I saw a dress over there that just screamed _you_. Go try it on. It will be fun.”

“I’ll just wait for you,” said Hermione.

Appearing as if from nowhere around the edge of a tall rack of wizard robes, was Blaise Zabini, looking tall and polished, and mildly amused.

“Potter dragging you around, Granger?” he asked.

Hermione gave him a look. “When does she not?”

Rose rolled her eyes, but left them. At least Hermione would be amused for the time being. She tried on the clothes, not bothering to show Hermione and ask for her opinion, as Hermione would refuse to give her one. There were times, Rose thought, that it might be nice to go shopping with Lavender and Parvati. At least they would respect the ritual. Hermione and Ginny were useless for such things. Though it did speed things along, when one didn’t parade about the dressing room, requesting opinions and asking how such and such an outfit made one look. 

Rose was done in under fifteen minutes, leaving the dressing room with a considerably smaller pile. A record, she was sure. But there was no need for her to have rushed, because Hermione and Blaise were sitting in the chairs provided for dressing room spectators and having a rousing discussion about Slughorn.

Blaise was of the opinion that Slughorn could offer them nothing they couldn’t find for themselves, and was dubious about his alleged ‘connections.’ Hermione was of the opinion that a professor would not lie about such things.

Rose let them debate, and went to purchase her pretty new clothes. When her things were packed away in a bag that magically expanded on the inside to fit everything, Rose walked back to fetch Hermione. The debate had ranged to an equation they were studying in Arithmancy, so Rose gently nudged and prodded, and got them to follow her like distracted ducklings out of the shop and into the cold and wind.

They took no notice of the weather, too caught up in their academic argument, and Rose led them to Honeydukes. Her supply of chocolate needed to be replenished. She left them at the door, as Honeydukes was a crush of Hogwarts students, who were all talking and laughing and scooping up sweets. Rose got a box of Honeydukes Best Chocolate bars, and by the time she was done, and found Hermione and Blaise again they were picking out their own sweets, and exclaiming over their mutual love of Toothflossing Stringmints. The weirdos.

But by this time, it was clear that Hermione had made a new friend, and Blaise was likely pleased that his campaign to win Ginny back had gained another likely helper. It was never bad when boyfriends and best friends got along. 

After Honeydukes, they all agreed to stop for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. They found an empty table in a corner - a minor miracle on this day, as the Three Broomsticks was just as full up as Honeydukes had been. Rose looked around for Madam Rosemerta, and couldn’t see her through the crush of people at the bar. Though it wasn’t as though her mysterious errand couldn’t wait until later.

The three of them ordered lunch, and sat in their booth chatting.

Rose noticed a few Slytherins giving Blaise strange looks when they saw who he was having lunch with - the Girl Who Lived and a Muggleborn. Blaise only gave them blank stares back, as though daring them to say something. No one did. They turned their heads and left Blaise to it.

“Have you noticed…” asked Rose.

“Yes,” he said.

“Won’t you be in trouble with your less liberal minded classmates?”

“That’s the thing,” said Blaise. “There are only a few students in Slytherin House who come from that sort of family, and for the most part they will keep their heads down in the face of strong opposition. And ever since Draco had his _epic_ fall from grace—“

“What?”

“He’s been a mess all year. He doesn’t socialize in the dungeons anymore. He keeps to himself. He’s completely lost any care he used to have for his appearance. He’s a hot mess.”

Rose couldn’t disagree with this assessment, but Rose also knew _why_ Draco was distracted from his usual activities.

“And people have noticed. Draco used to be the loudest voice in Slytherin, and what he said went. But not anymore. Now they’re following me.”

“Why, Blaise,” said Rose, smirking. “Have you charmed all those snakes?”

He nodded. “The snakes are more like sheep these days. It was easy.”

“And since they are following you, you get to make the rules now.”

He nodded. “I get to make the rules.”

“And if you, say, want to be friends with a bunch of Muggle loving Gryffindor girls, and the Girl Who Lived to boot—“

“Then I will have started the hottest new trend.”

“And if you wanted to date a, say, red-headed blood traitor who’d sooner kick you in the balls?”

“Then all the boys in Slytherin will be panting after gingers and nursing sore balls.”

Rose snickered. “Good on you, Zabini.”

He shrugged elegantly. “I can see the way the wind is blowing, even if they can’t.” He gave her a pointed look.

Rose felt a chill up her spine that made her sit up straight in her chair, and looked away. The way people looked at her sometimes, like she actually could single-handedly defeat Voldemort, made her feel like she was living in a world filled with crazy people. What on earth did they see in her that she didn’t? Because she would dearly love to have as much faith in herself as they did. 

“Why, Blaise, I don’t know what you mean.”

He snorted, very elegantly, and shot her a smirky sort of smile. 

Girl Who Lived. Immortality. Chosen One. It was all rubbish. They’d figure that out sooner or later. Probably after Voldemort had killed her. Rose gave an internal sigh, and her gave herself a mental smack over her morbid attitude. 

Instead of getting into it with Blaise, she pleaded a visit to the ladies room, and escaped. Hermione and Blaise seemed to like each other’s company just fine, in any case. 

Rose took care of business, and after washing up, she took her time fixing her hair in the mirror. It had been blown about by the wind, and was looking how her hair looked when she woke up in the morning. Her hair was such a mess without product and careful application of drying spells. The door swung open behind her, letting in the noise of the pub, as well as Madam Rosemerta. 

“Hullo,” said Rose.

Madam Rosemerta blinked at her, and looked dazed. Perhaps she was stressed from the crowded pub, and dealing with all of her customers. But no, because her eyes were vacant and glassy, like she wasn’t even aware of where she was or what she was doing. She reached into a pocket of her apron, and pulled out a wrapped brown paper package. It was small, no bigger than a book, and thin. She pressed it into Rose’s hand without a word, or eye contact, and left the room.

Rose had a sick feeling in her stomach. That was not normal behavior. She looked at the package, squeezing gently, and tried to get a feel for what Draco had asked her to fetch. It felt hard in places, and soft in others. There was a small clinking sound when she shook it. She had no idea what it might be. 

She caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked pale and worried, and faintly angry.

She tucked the package into her pocket, and resolved to stick it in one of her shopping bags at the next opportunity. When no one was looking.

She made her way back to the table, but detoured past the bar. Madam Rosemerta was serving drinks again, and telling off someone who'd told a bad joke. She laughed out loud, and Rose stared at her.

The barmaid noticed her, and asked, “Anything for you, dearie?”

Rose shook her head, unsettled. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Madam Rosemerta nodded and smiled at her, but with no spark of knowledge of the object she had passed Rose in the restroom. What on earth had been done to Madam Rosemerta? A likely spell came to mind, and Rose shivered. She stalked back to the table, suddenly furious with Draco. Could he have possibly cast an Unforgiveable Curse on Madam Rosemerta? Why on earth couldn’t he have just asked the woman to pass the package? Or paid her to do so? 

The table was filled up when she arrived back, the extra seats having been taken by Ginny, Dean, Ron, and Seamus. They greeted her loudly when she arrived, and Seamus gallantly procured a chair for her from a group of the Hufflepuffs the next table over.

Ron glared ineffectually at Blaise, getting entirely the wrong idea regarding Blaise and Hermione’s getting along together. Hermione didn’t seem to know what to say to Ron, or how to act, and so opted to say and do nothing. Ron had somehow missed that he’d been tagging along on his sister’s date with Dean, and had sat himself between them at the table. Ginny shot Dean wistful looks, which he returned. Seamus tried to order Firewhiskey from the bar, but was sent back with pumpkin juice.

Ginny sat beside Rose, and demanded to know what she’d bought. So they showed off their purchases to each other. Ginny had picked up new Quidditch gloves, and a supply of chocolate from Honeydukes. She was cooing over Rose’s clothing purchases, as Ginny could appreciate a cute outfit, and also enjoyed borrowing Rose’s clothes.

The group of them sipped their drinks and chatted for awhile before deciding on what they’d do next. The others wanted to continue shopping, but Rose had decided that she’d had enough of the village for today, and anyway, she needed to go back to the castle and scream at a certain Slytherin. Ginny gave up on the idea of getting any time alone with Dean, and decided to accompany Rose back to the castle. Hermione and Blaise both wanted to visit the bookshop, and so left together. Ginny cast them a dark look as they went, as she was distrustful of Blaise and his intentions.

The girls left the pub, and braved the cold once more. They began walking, and Rose noticed that they had gained several followers. 

“Tonks!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Tonks frowned into the wind, purple hair today blowing every which way. “Bodyguards, Rose. You’re kind of a high-profile target, remember? You should have mentioned you wanted to go to town today. We only caught up with you after you’d got to the pub.”

Rose was momentarily stymied. She hadn’t even thought of her Auror guard. 

“Well, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

A squawk came from the portable Floo Tonks carried, and she listened to the words before responding, “On our way back now. Over.”

“Rose, you really need to be more aware of your safety.”

“I didn’t even think about it—“

“I know you feel safe at Hogwarts, and in Hogsmeade, but, kid, you’re not.”

“I’m fine though. Nothing happened.”

Tonks sighed. “Look, lets get back to the school, all right? We’ll talk about this later. Let’s have the others carry your bags back.”

Rose handed the bags over, and realized that they were not just being gallant in carrying her things, they wanted to look through her purchases to make sure she hadn’t picked up anything dangerous. She was intensely aware of the package that was still in her pocket. She hadn’t had the chance to slip it into her bags when she came back to the table, and was now glad for it. 

Two Aurors walked ahead of them, and two behind. Tonks walked just ahead of them, scanning the road, and occasionally talking into the portable Floo. 

Rose and Ginny walked along, silently. Rose felt tense and scared, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

The wind was howling, and the sky was overcast and steadily getting darker. She felt a chill, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, and was glad for Draco’s leather gloves. At least her hands were warm. Wind easily cut through her knitted hat and scarf, and she felt as though she might as well not be wearing her cloak for all the good it was doing her.

“What is that?” asked Ginny, pointing to the corner of the package that was sticking out from the pocket of Rose’s robe. Rose startled, and quickly shoved the package deeper into her pocket.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Just something I had to pick up.”

Ginny was quiet for a few steps. “Merlin, you’re lying to me.”

“I am not,” said Rose. “I got it from one of the shops today.” True.

“Why would you lie to me? What is it?”

“I don’t— just something.”

“You don’t know what it is? You bought it, and you don’t know what it is?”

Ginny’s hand darted out, seeker quick, and pulled the package from Rose’s pocket.

“Ginny!” said Rose, reaching for it. Ginny held it up and away, out of Rose’s reach. “Oh my god,” said Rose. “We are not eight years old, and this is not a game. Give that back.”

“Not until you tell me what it is, and where it came from, and what it’s for!”

“None of your business,” said Rose. She swung wildly for it, and missed. “Ginny!”

The Aurors looked pretty amused at what appeared to be antics. They laughed, and advised Rose to, “Go low, go low!” and, “No, go high!”

“Ginny, please!” said Rose. Merlin only knew what was in the package, but Draco had been adamant about her not touching whatever was wrapped up inside, and Ginny’s hands were bare.

“Where did it come from!”

“Honeydukes, okay?”

“Lie!” said Ginny. “Try again!”

“Fine! It’s just something I got for Draco, okay? He couldn’t come to Hogsmeade today, and I wanted to get him something, and he likes sweets.” All technically true.

Ginny scowled, and her fingers clenched on the package. 

“It doesn’t feel like candy.”

Rose abruptly stopped crowding Ginny, and reaching for the package. “Then what _does_ it feel like?” she asked, sarcastically. “Weapons? Hexes?”

Ginny gave her a chilling look, and took the package between her hands and tore it. 

“No!” Rose cried. But it was too late. A fold of dark velvet fabric slipped from the paper, and fell to the snow. It bounced, and from within Rose could see the glitter of a silver necklace with large white opals, reflecting eerily green.

“Oh, well that suits him, Rose,” said Ginny, with a sarcastic look. “I’m sure it will look lovely around his neck.”

Rose scowled at her, and scooped up the necklace, velvet and all.

“Don’t touch it!” said Ginny. “It might be cursed!”

“Which is why you shouldn’t have ripped the package open!” Rose snapped.

“You shouldn’t have it at all!”

Rose knew that, and when she saw Draco next they were going to have _words_.

“What’s this about a hexed necklace then?” said Tonks, having caught on that this was not an ordinary argument, and something dangerous was going on.

“It’s nothing,” said Rose quickly.

Ginny scowled at her. “It’s something! Rose picked up this necklace from Merlin knows where—“ Ginny reached for the necklace with her bare hand, and Rose gasped in horror. She pulled her hands up and away, and out of Ginny’s reach. 

All might have been well, but the chain and clasp flew free of the velvet wrap, and Rose felt a tiny icy touch on her chin. She gasped, and the world fell away. 

Her body narrowed down to a single frozen point, and she became something small and completely, terribly alone. The feeling lasted for minutes, hours, so long she could no longer tell what time meant. Then her body came back in a rush like fire, and with it a feeling of such intense pain and terror that she could not bear it, and all she could do was scream. She fought and kicked and flailed, and screamed some more, because she had to get away from it. It would consume her. The feeling grew and grew until fear was everything, all she knew and all she would ever know. Her throat felt raw from the force of her screams, and her limbs ached. She was being held down, taken, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t let it take her, and she fought desperately, violently.

Someone was casting spells on her, and she wailed, lashing out.

Then, for a very long while she felt nothing at all.


	24. Year Six, Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Rose sleeps, Ginny blames Draco, and he is pushed to his limit.

:: :: :: ::

It was just like Rose to disregard the danger she was in. Like today, being out and about without the Aurors. It had been stupid of them all to go about not even thinking about the dangers. And now she was picking up mysterious packages for Malfoy. Ginny hated being the voice of reason. It was a position much better suited to Hermione. 

She reached for the necklace, wanting to take it in her hand and shake her fist in Rose’s careless face. That was what doing favors for Malfoys got you.

Rose gave a gasp of horror, and she jerked back from Ginny, still with that stupid necklace in her hands. The chain flew free of the velvet wrap, and it touched Rose’s chin. 

Rose’s eyes slid shut and her hands went lax, as though she’d fallen asleep standing right there. The necklace and velvet slipped from her gloved hands, and fell to the snow. Rose’s arms slowly lifted at her sides, stretching out on either side of her body, and then she began to lift up into the air. She floated upwards gracefully, as though she’d suddenly decided she would rather like to try floating, and six feet above the ground she stopped. Then her eyes flew open, and she started to scream. A horrible shriek rent the air, sound carried away on the wind, and Rose began to flail and writhe, as though she was being tortured by some invisible foe. 

The Aurors leapt into action.

Quite literally. Tonks jumped and grabbed hold of Rose’s ankle and pulled. Rose’s body came down on Tonks, still screaming and writhing. Her arms flung and her legs kicked, and her whole body arched up and twisted, as though she was in horrible pain. Ginny and another Auror tried to hold Rose down, to keep her from hurting herself. 

The other Auror was barking out commands to the rest, and one was speaking into his portable Floo.

“Emergency Port out, now!” the Auror yelled. 

Tonks fumbled in her pocket for a flat gold disc, and she pressed it to Rose’s chest. Ginny flung her hand out at the last moment, because damned if she was letting Rose go anywhere by herself in this state, and the Portkey activated with a wrench behind her navel, and the next thing Ginny knew they were in the A&E at St. Mungo’s, and Rose was still screaming and writhing.

Healers and nurses swarmed them immediately, gently pulling Ginny back, and shouting for a Dark Arts specialist, and the next thing Ginny knew, Rose was on a floating stretcher, and disappearing behind a half dozen figures in green healer robes, and then they were through a set of swinging doors, and Ginny couldn’t even hear Rose screaming any longer.

Ginny sobbed, and that was when she realized that she was crying. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hands, hiding her shuddering, gasping breaths. After a moment, a hand came down on her shoulder. 

“Ginny?” said Tonks. “Are you hurt?”

Ginny shook her head, and sobbed harder. “Is she going to die?” she managed to ask, though she didn’t know if Tonks could understand her.

Tonks didn’t reply, but led Ginny to a set of chairs against the wall. People were staring at them, and Ginny didn’t even care. 

“Sit here,” Tonks said. “I have to Floo Sirius and Remus.”

Ginny nodded, and wiped at her eyes with the end of her scarf. 

The A&E seemed to settle then, and though Ginny could still feel eyes on her, she didn’t pay them any mind.

It was her fault that Rose was— Ginny’s mind shied away from the thought. If Rose hadn’t jerked her hands away, Ginny would have touched the necklace with her bare hand, like an _idiot_ , and she would have been the one hurt. Ginny thought she might prefer that outcome instead of this one. If Rose hadn’t been trying to protect Ginny from her own impulsive _thoughtlessness_ , Rose wouldn’t be dying right now.

A person didn’t scream like that if they weren’t being murdered. The sound seemed to echo in Ginny’s head, and she squeezed her eyes shut, like she could block the memory of the sound out.

Where had that necklace come from?

“Where is she?!” roared Sirius, charging into the waiting area, and screaming at the nurses behind the check in counter. Remus was right on his heels, and stood at Sirius’s shoulder. Tonks was just behind them, and looked as wrecked and guilty as Ginny felt.

“Mr. Black,” one of the nurses began, in a placating voice.

“Take me to her _NOW_.”

“They have her in with a Dark Arts Specialist,” the nurse explained, mercilessly calm. “You would only be in the way at this time. Let them help her, and as soon as she’s stable I will personally take you in to see her.”

“Stable?” Sirius choked. He clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Can you tell us anything?” said Remus.

“I don’t know anything more than what I saw, but perhaps this Auror, and that young lady behind you, might be able to tell you what happened.”

Sirius whirled on his heel, and he zeroed in on Ginny.

“Ginny!” He was in the chair beside her in a moment. He scanned her quickly, and asked, “Are you all right?”

“Nothing happened to _me_ ,” she said, and sniffed wetly.

“Tell us,” Sirius demanded.

“Rose had a package in her pocket. It was all wrapped up with brown paper, and sticking out, and I asked her what it was, because I didn’t remember her buying it. She showed me everything else she got while we were at the Three Broomsticks, but not that. And she lied to me about it. She claimed that it wasn’t important, and that she didn’t know what it was, and then she said it was a candy she’d bought for Malfoy.”

Ginny swallowed down the urge to cry some more.

“But it didn’t feel like candy. And she was making me _so mad_ , so I ripped it open, and this necklace fell out.”

“A necklace?” 

Ginny nodded.

“So she picked it up. It was all wrapped in velvet, and I told her not to touch it, because I thought the necklace might have been cursed. Then Tonks came over to see what we were arguing about, and I went to grab the necklace, and - and—“

“Ginny, please tell me,” Sirius begged.

Ginny took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. “Rose jerked the necklace away before I could touch it, but it fell out of the velvet, and part of it touched her face, and then—“ Ginny gave a sob, and covered her mouth with her hand. 

“She rose up into the air, hovered for a moment, and then started screaming and thrashing,” Tonks finished. Sirius and Remus turned their eyes on her. “We pulled her down, and Ginny helped us hold her limbs as immobile as we could, and then we Portkeyed here. The Healers took her, and I went to Floo you.”

“It sounds like the Cruciatus Curse,” said Remus. 

“Apart from the floating,” Tonks agreed.

Sirius gave a wounded whine.

Sirius and Remus stayed with Ginny, taking the seats on either side of her, while they waited for a Healer to come to tell them something about Rose. Tonks left to check in with the Aurors, as they were opening an investigation into the necklace and to find out why this happened to Rose Potter.

“Where did the necklace come from?” said Remus. “Could she have bought it somewhere? Dervish and Banges, maybe?”

Ginny shook her head. “She didn’t go there. I was with Dean all morning, but we met up with Rose and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks, and they never said they went to that shop.”

“Where did they go? Maybe if we can narrow it down, we can figure out where she picked it up.”

“They went to Gladrags, Honeydukes, and the Three Broomsticks.”

“Where’s Hermione now? Why wasn’t she with the two of you?”

“We met Zabini at the Three Broomsticks too. Then we all split up. Zabini and Hermione wanted to go to the bookshop, and Dean wanted to go to Zonko’s with Ron and Seamus, and Rose wanted to go back to the castle so I went with her.”

“Do you think she bought it herself?” asked Remus.

Ginny shook her head.

“If it was just a necklace, she would have told me about it. She would have showed it to me. And I don’t know what use she would have for a cursed necklace.” Ginny frowned and thought about how Rose reacted when the package broke. “I think she knew it was cursed. She knew we weren’t supposed to touch it.”

“If she knew what she was carrying, why did she…”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Ginny.

“Could she have been under the Imperius Curse?” said Remus. “Someone made her collect it?”

“The Imperius Curse doesn’t work on her,” said Sirius.

They were all quiet as they digested the implications of this.

“So she chose to do this? Of her own free will?” said Sirius. He shook his head. “I don’t believe she would seek out anything tainted with Dark magic like that necklace. She doesn’t… she’s not… Right?” Sirius asked Ginny, like he was worried he didn’t know Rose at all.

“She’s not into Dark magic,” Ginny assured him. “I don’t know why she would—“

Ginny paused as a thought occurred to her. Rose might not be into dark magic, but she was into someone who was. And she had mentioned him while she and Ginny were fighting over the package, and Ginny was suddenly absolutely sure she knew who was responsible for Rose having that necklace.

“Draco Malfoy!” she said.

“What about him?” asked Remus.

“He’s got something to do with this. Rose is so stupid when it comes to him, and there’s no one else who could get her to pick up something suspicious, just because he asked.”

Sirius frowned, and looked around the waiting room. “Where the hell did Tonks go? She needs to question that kid.”

“And arrest him,” Ginny said.

“There’s no proof,” Remus reminded them both, gently. “It’s only a hunch. I’m sure Rose will tell us everything when she wakes.”

“If she—“ Ginny started, and then stopped, and choked on a sob.

Updates on Rose’s condition were few, and they waited for hours before the Healers allowed them to see her. She was asleep in a hospital bed, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow, with a blanket pulled up to her chest. She was pale, and her face looked tense. She wasn’t screaming or writhing with pain any longer, but she didn’t look peaceful. They had changed her into a hospital gown, and the nurse who led them into the room showed them the closet where Rose’s clothes were folded neatly.

“When the Aurors come back they may want to run some tests on them,” the nurse said. “Sometimes there’s magical residue that can help with their investigations.”

Remus nodded their thanks, while Sirius kicked the visitors chair close to the hospital bed and took Rose’s limp hand in his. He bowed over it, and sighed deeply. “Didn’t we make her promise not to do this to us anymore?” he said aloud.

“I believe she pinky swore,” said Remus, moving to stand at Sirius’s side to put a hand on his shoulder.

Ginny couldn’t stand it. She went to the closet and went through Rose’s pockets. She came up with a purse filled with galleons, several crumpled receipts, and a tube of lip gloss. The receipts showed nothing Ginny hadn’t seen while Rose was showing off her purchases. 

“There’s nothing here,” she said to herself. Her fingers clenched on the fringe of Rose’s scarf, a Gryffindor red confection with white snowflakes. The matching hat and mittens had pom pom baubles, and Rose loved them. But the mittens were missing, and in their place were leather gloves.

“These aren’t her gloves,” said Ginny.

“What?” said Sirius.

“These gloves! They aren’t hers. I’ve never seen them before.” They were black leather and lined with fur, and while they were very finely made, they were not Rose’s style. Ginny pulled one onto her hand, and stretched out her fingers. “I think they are mens gloves. These wouldn’t even fit her.”

Remus came over and took the other glove to examine. “They don’t belong to either of us,” he said.

“Where did she get them?” said Sirius.

“Malfoy,” said Ginny. “These have got to be Malfoy’s gloves!”

“Why would he give her his gloves, and then make her pick up a necklace that kills through touch?” said Sirius. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It would make him a very poor assassin,” said Remus.

“Rose claims he loves her. Maybe the necklace wasn’t meant for her, and he wanted to make sure she would be safe?”

“Well, if that was the plan, it backfired.”

:: :: :: ::

The Gryffindors were in an uproar. Rose Potter and Ginny Weasley were conspicuous in their absence, and Hermione Granger was in tears, which was the most disconcerting thing Draco had seen lately, and that was saying something. 

Draco wondered if the whole thing had gone pear shaped. Perhaps when Rose tried to bring the necklace past the new and improved wards the Aurors took the Girl Who Lived into custody for possession of a dark artifact? That would be horrible.

Rose would probably tell them about Draco’s involvement, out of some do-gooder sense that the Aurors could help him.

Ha.

He regretted now that he hadn’t told Rose everything. What if the Aurors had seized the necklace and one of the idiots had touched it? They would have dragged Rose in for attempted murder, and it wouldn’t be long now before the Aurors came for him. 

He hadn’t wanted to tell her anything. This little mission was merely a stop-gap to keep the Dark Lord believing that Draco was doing his job. Only meant to buy some more time so Draco could fix the cabinet and get his parents to safety. It wasn’t meant to harm anyone. Only to make enough noise when the necklace was recovered by teachers or the authorities to get back to the Dark Lord. It had to look to Him as though Draco was at least _trying_ to kill her.

Where the hell was she?

Draco tapped his foot impatiently against the floor, and listened very hard. The news was speeding through the students, and it was only a matter of time before the reason behind the Gryffindors’ distress and Rose’s absence reached Draco at the Slytherin table.

Draco watched as Pansy entered the Great Hall. She perked up immediately, like some kind of gossip bloodhound at the furor going on on the other side of the Hall. She walked very slowly past the Gryffindor table, and Draco watched as she froze behind a pair of fifth year girls. She listened for a moment, and then her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

Merlin, this was fucking excruciating.

Pansy tapped one of the girls on the shoulder, and asked her a question. The girl nodded, her face a picture of misery, and with that confirmation, Pansy was across the hall in seconds, hands slamming down on to the table across from Draco.

“Rose Potter is dead!” she said.

Draco stomach swooped, and his heart stopped, and the whole world seemed to freeze. Sound muted, and his vision whited out.

_No. No, no, no._

She couldn’t be dead, because he had kissed her just that morning, and it had felt, stupid as it sounds, like she was filling him up with sunlight with every press of her lips. Every cold corner of him burned away in Rose’s light. He had held her in his arms, and had her just the way he wanted her, the way he’d dreamed of being with her for the past who knows how long. He’d had her, but just for a fleeting set of minutes, when she temporarily forgot that he was a shit who had a fake girlfriend, and who took assignments from bloody Dark Wizards to kill her.

_Oh, Merlin, what had he done?_

He blinked, and the world came back: the Slytherins peppering Pansy with questions, while she recounted everything the Gryffindors said.

“That titchy one who follows Potter about with a camera saw the whole thing,” said Pansy. “He said she was cursed right in the road on the way back to school. She rose up into the air, and started screaming like she was being murdered, and then the noise just stopped. Next thing he knew Potter, Weaslette, and that Auror with the pink hair had vanished.”

Draco wanted to take Pansy and _shake_ her, because she had to be wrong about this. She had to be. It was not possible. Rose couldn’t be—

“That doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Daphne said. “They probably took her to the hospital wing.”

“They took her to St. Mungo’s,” said Blaise, as he arrived at the Slytherin table. He put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, squeezed, and then sat beside him. “She’s not dead.”

All the air left Draco’s lungs in a great gush of relief, and his forehead hit the table with a thunk. 

“How do you know?” said Pansy.

“I was with Granger when she found out,” said Blaise. “We were at the bookshop. Potter and Weasley went back to school without us.”

“What happened?” said Draco. His voice was little more than a croak, but Blaise understood him.

“Potter and Weasley were fighting over some package,” he said. “It tore open, and there was something cursed inside of it. Potter touched it.”

Rose touched it.

When Draco had purchased the necklace from Borgin and Burkes, the oily little Borgin had kindly given him the item’s provenance. The last woman cursed by the opal necklace had spent the very short remainder of her life locked in screaming nightmares. Borgin speculated that she had merely touched the necklace with a single fingertip upon receiving it. Before that, reports of a woman who had had the necklace fastened round her neck by a jealous lover, had died nearly instantly. Nearly. And there Draco had stopped him. He hadn’t wanted to hear any more.

“She should be dead,” said Draco, lifting his head from the tabletop. He raked his fingers through his hair, and then left them there, his elbows on the table, head hanging low. Just a single touch was enough to kill a person. And Rose had _touched_ it. 

“She’s not conscious,” said Blaise. “Ginny is still at the hospital, and she’s been giving Granger updates with a two-way mirror, but they don’t know when she’ll wake up. Or even if she will. The Healers are still trying to figure out how to remove the curse.”

“Where did she get the package?” said Pansy. “Was she planing to use the curse to kill someone at school?”

“No one knows where it came from,” said Blaise, but he cast a suspicious look at Draco.

Draco felt his stomach clench, and he rose swiftly to his feet.

“Where are you going?” said Pansy. “We haven’t even had dinner.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Draco, you’ve skipped too many meals lately. It’s starting to show.” Pansy pinched the loose fabric of his sleeve between her fingers. He was losing weight, and it wasn’t as though he had much to lose in the first place.

“Leave me be, Pansy,” he said.

Draco ducked into the nearest restroom, and was violently ill. This was all his fault. Rose could have died, and it would have been his fault. She still might die. She was lying unconscious in the hospital, and the Healers didn’t know how to save her. He had done that to her. His stomach gave another lurch. 

Unacceptable.

:: :: :: ::

Ginny Weasley returned to the castle that night, and her first action was to storm Slytherin House. 

She pounded on the blank stretch of wall that was the door to Slytherin until a sullen first year answered, and she stomped over him to get inside. There in the common room she threatened every Slytherin present until Draco was brought to the common room to meet her wrath. Ginny didn’t seem to care that Draco was ashy pale, and had a fine tremor in his hands. It just made him appear more guilty. 

There was an audience for Ginny's interrogation, but it suited Draco to have witnesses. Merlin knew what Ginny would dare if they were they alone, and more mouths to spread the story back to the Dark Lord the better. The more sources, the more credible the story becomes, and the safer Draco's parents become. 

"What was your plan, Malfoy?" Ginny demanded. "I know you had something to do with Rose getting that necklace!"

Draco didn’t know what Rose would have to say about his plan now - he suspected nothing good - but she _had_ nearly died for it, and he was determined to not throw aside the advantage Rose had given him today. So he gathered every ounce of Malfoy breeding he could dredge up, and began his performance.

"I wasn't even in Hogsmeade," said Draco. "I was in detention with McGonagall. She can tell you where I was all day."

"A rather convenient alibi," Blaise mused. He sounded wry and suspicious, and the other students began to murmur their doubt. 

"I had nothing to do—” Denials made it sound like he was lying.

"Did you curse her? The Imperius?"

The students abruptly quieted. Accusations regarding use of Unforgivable Curses called for it. 

"No," said Draco. "I never even spoke to Potter today.” 

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You spoke to her this summer. You spoke to her at the end of last year. I know what lies you were feeding her then, Malfoy."

"As if Potter is so easily led," Draco said derisively. 

"She may be if you're the snake hissing in her ear!" Ginny snarled. 

Draco pasted on a smirk. "I'm flattered," he said, insincere charm laid thick, "that Potter takes my words so into her heart."

Ginny’s expression went dark and feral, and she lunged as though she would go for his throat with her bare hands. 

“Woah!” said Blaise. He quickly wrapped his arms about her waist, and pulled her back to his chest. 

"You lie to her!" Ginny shrieked, struggling in Blaise’s hold. "You make her feel for you so you can manipulate her! I know you were the one who sent her to get that necklace! You either wanted her dead, or were using her to get it past the wards for you so you could use it on someone else."

Ginny hissed a Stinging Hex, and Blaise released her with an oath. 

"It sounds like you are making up wild theories to suit your ends. There are many people who want Potter dead, and your pool of suspects must be larger than me, who was not even present in the village today," he said pointedly. 

"Then where the hell did she get these?" Ginny demanded. From her pocket she pulled out two black leather gloves. She shook them in Draco's face. He batted them away irritably. 

"They are just gloves, Weasley," he said. "Like many others, I'm sure."

Blaise took one from Ginny's hand, and looked it over. 

"Don't you have gloves like these, Draco?" Blaise asked. He handed the glove to Pansy, and she nodded. 

"They do look like your gloves,” said Pansy. 

Blaise looked furious, damn him, because Blaise was free to care openly about Rose. Blaise turned and went to the hall to their dorm. There was tense silence until he returned with Draco's winter cloak, scarf, and hat in hand. He tossed the lot in Pansy's lap. 

"The gloves are missing," he said. 

Every eye turned to Draco, looking for an explanation. 

Draco didn’t give them one. He drew himself up, haughty and regal. This was going so well, exactly the way he planned, and everyone present believed Draco had tried to kill Rose Potter today. He thought he might be sick again, right here at their feet.

“Well, Malfoy?” Ginny demanded. She looked furious, face flushed as red as her hair, and her dark eyes were nearly black in her fury.

“I suppose I must have lost them somewhere,” he said, adopting an air of unconcern.

Ginny huffed. “And I suppose Rose just happened to pick them up and wear them for no reason?”

“Perhaps she wanted to touch something that Draco touched,” Pansy said. “Everyone knows she’s completely gone over him. Perhaps she stole them.” Pansy smirked.

“Parkinson, I will slap that—“ Ginny began.

“Enough of this,” said Blaise. “You won’t get anything out of him, Ginny. Maybe the Aurors will.”

Blaise gifted Draco with a look that would make a lesser man wilt, but Draco has been on the receiving end of glares from the Dark Lord, and Blaise doesn’t hold a candle to that. Ginny seemed satisfied enough with this idea, and the two of them left the common room.

Dead silence after they were gone, and everyone was staring at Draco. Wondering. 

“Show’s over,” Pansy said. She waved her hand, and the crowd dispersed slowly. Pansy folded Draco’s scarf into a perfect square in her lap, and set aside his cloak and other winter wear. When the room had cleared, Pansy asked, “Should you be running for the gates, or have you covered your tracks adequately?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

Pansy sniffed. “You’ve been acting strangely all year. I know you had that assignment done for Transfiguration. You just didn’t turn it in.” Pansy always was cleverer than she allowed herself to appear. It was irksome that Draco was so transparent to her. “You were strange this morning, and after breakfast then you followed her out of the Great Hall.”

Had she followed them? Seen them duck behind the tapestry? Caught them flushed and disheveled after that kiss? But Pansy said nothing more. She just looked at him, waiting.

“There’s no need to worry,” Draco said.

Pansy inclined her head.

They were quiet for a moment, and she said, “You’re never around, and she’s not giving you sad doe eyes from across rooms anymore. With what happened to her today…”

Draco held his breath, and gestured for her to continue.

“You didn’t really mean for her to get hurt, did you?”

Damn it. 

Draco couldn’t tell Pansy the truth, because of course, he wanted it to appear that he meant for Rose to die, but when he looked away he could see Pansy nod out of the corner of his eye, and she got to her feet. His scarf spilled from her lap into a pile on the floor. 

“I don’t know which is worse,” she said, quiet. “That you’ve made me wish that you had wanted to kill someone today, or that you’ve been cheating on me with her.”

“Pansy.”

“We’re done here, Draco,” she said, stepping over the scarf, and went down to the girls dormitories without looking back.

:: :: :: ::

Tonks turned up nothing on Malfoy when Ginny nagged her into questioning the little worm. There was little Tonks could do officially, because Malfoy was not an official suspect and was underage, so she was limited to inviting Malfoy to speak to her with his Head of House present. Reportedly, Snape had thwarted her questions at every turn. 

“Draco had _lost_ the gloves, he did not know how Rose came to have them, blah, blah—” 

Ginny didn’t want to hear any more lies. She would give her wand arm to dose the little ferret with Veritaserum and make him spew all his dirty little secrets, but that wasn’t in the cards.

The Auror investigation into the incident didn’t turn up anything concrete on where the necklace had come from, and there was no record of Rose purchasing it at any of the shops in Hogsmeade. The only thing of interest was that Madam Rosemerta was found to be under the Imperius Curse, but when they broke it she couldn’t tell them who had cast the spell on her, and she couldn’t remember handing Rose Potter any suspicious packages. 

The Aurors tracked the necklace’s ownership back through a string of dead Muggles, until it finally wound up in Borgin & Burkes, purveyors of all things dark and nasty in Knockturn Alley. However, the necklace was bought with cash, rather than with credit and the shop didn’t keep records of cash sales, and Borgin claimed that he could not remember to whom he’d sold the necklace. The Auror investigation had hit a dead end.

The Daily Prophet came up with a theory that there was a madman out there who wanted to test Rose Potter’s supposed ‘immortality.’ The madman had made a gift of the necklace, which Rose supposedly received gladly, as she so often received gifts from her adoring public, and then Rose was cursed. The Daily Prophet was taking this latest near-death experience as more proof of Rose’s immortality. The way they told it, one would think Rose ate killing curses for breakfast.

And still, Rose slept.

The healers were at a loss as to how to break the curse, so she remained under stasis charms. Specialists had been called in from around the world. If nothing else, Rose’s fame and popularity would come in handy now. She would have the best care possible.

Tonks came to Hogwarts on the weekend to bring Ginny and Hermione to visit Rose at St. Mungo’s. The Gryffindors loaded them down with gifts of candy and flowers and Get Well cards to bring to Rose. 

Rose looked just the same as she had that first day when the healers had placed her under the stasis charms, skin pale and face tense. There was a tiny frown creasing her forehead, and her mouth looked tight and pinched. 

“If she were awake she would be freaking out about getting wrinkles,” said Hermione. She sat in the visitors chair, and took Rose’s limp hand.

Ginny snorted, and paced around the room. She peered into the closet, and every drawer and cabinet. Flicked her nail against the orb hanging over Rose’s head, which kept an eye on a patient’s condition, and would alert the Healers if anything was amiss. Opened the curtains, and looked out the windows. Anything to avoid looking at Rose, lying unnaturally still on the bed. As if she were already dead.

“It should be me lying there,” said Ginny.

Hermione shook her head.

“She would hate it if it were you,” said Hermione. “She would feel too guilty to live with herself.”

“Guilty?”

Hermione gave her a dry look. “We both know what happened here,” she said. “Malfoy asked her to pick up that necklace, for what reason I don’t know yet, and Rose did it, because she’s in love with him, and it turned out horribly. I’m sure she prefers that she has to suffer the consequences rather than have it be you.”

“I’d prefer Malfoy suffer,” said Ginny.

Hermione looked at Rose’s tense face. “I’d prefer it too. But Rose wouldn’t.”

“You think so?” said Ginny. “Do you think she’ll forgive him for this too?”

“We both know she will.”

Ginny threw back her head, and groaned aloud. “Merlin, I hate that you are so right about that.”

She kicked a chair over to sit next to Hermione, and plopped down in it. She sunk low in her seat, collar of her coat coming up to nearly cover her ears. She looked at Rose and felt like crying again.

“How long do you think she will be like this?” said Ginny. “Do you think they’ll be able to wake her up?”

“Of course,” said Hermione. “They have to.”

Ginny nodded. There was simply no other option.

:: :: :: ::

She still hadn’t woken up. It had been a week, and the last Draco had heard from Blaise the healers were at a loss. She might never wake up.

Draco hadn’t slept much in that time. He laid awake at night, staring at the canopy of his bed, and dreaded that news would come that the Girl Who Lived had died in the night. He caught hours of sleep here and there, when his body became so exhausted that his mind shut down this line of thought for a little while. But when he woke it came roaring back.

After another sleepless night, an owl arrived at breakfast. Draco was drinking weak tea, and plain toast - all his stomach could manage - when an owl arrived. The scroll was unmarked. The message inside was short, but it changed Draco’s life.

_Adequate. The poison next, I think._

Draco didn’t know how long he sat there staring at those words, frozen solid, like his brain and heart ground to a complete halt, but the next thing he knew he was on his feet, blood roaring in his ears, stomach like ice. The note crumpled in his fist, and he walked directly up to the head table, and stopped in front of the headmaster. He could feel the eyes of half the hall on him, and Snape was all but boring holes into the side of his head, but _fuck_ them. The only people who mattered to him were in danger or lying near death, it was all his fault, and Draco had officially reached his limit.

“Mr. Malfoy?” said Dumbledore curiously. 

Draco swallowed, and clutched the note tighter in his fist. His nails dug into his palm. It would be so much easier to sit back down, but—

_The poison next, I think._

Doing that would surely kill him. As it would surely kill her. That was not going to happen.

“May I speak with you after breakfast, sir?”

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment. His blue eyes seemed to peer into Draco’s very soul for a moment, and then he nodded. The corners of his mouth turned up. “Let us not delay, Mr. Malfoy. I am free at this very moment.”

The Headmaster got to his feet, and Draco followed him out of the Great Hall and up to Dumbledore’s office. They were silent. A part of Draco’s brain was screaming at him, because what the _hell_ was he doing? The other half screamed it down, because what the hell else could he do?

“Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore. The old man rounded his desk and sat behind it. Draco sat, though he really would rather stand. His hands shook. He clenched them into fists and dug his knuckles into his thighs.

“What did you want to speak with me about?”

“You know what I want to talk about,” said Draco. In his head, his mother’s voice warned him not to be rude to someone you were about to ask for a favor. “I need to get my parents out.”

“Out of where, exactly?”

Draco glared. Seriously? Dumbledore was going to play dumb? “Out of the Death Eaters, away from the Manor, far, far away from the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Are you certain your parents want that?”

“I don’t care what they want,” said Draco. “Because I’m about to betray the Dark Lord in a big way, and he’ll hurt them when he finds out.”

“Betray him how?”

“I’m defecting,” said Draco. “Consider me the newest member of Team Rose. Effective immediately.”

Dumbledore smiled. Draco had the feeling that in the game of chess Dumbledore and the Dark Lord were playing, Dumbledore had just captured a pawn.


	25. Year Six, Interlude, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco moves into Grimmauld Place, and makes a new friend.

:: :: :: ::

Two excruciating weeks passed before the plan was put into motion. Snape collected Draco from the Slytherin common room on Halloween, long after the feast was over, and Side-Apparated him to a quiet residential street in the middle of London. The street was lined with parked Muggle automobiles, the overcast sky a sickly pink, giving everything a polluted cast, the smell of London. Not a soul was sharing the sidewalk Draco and Snape stood on.

“Sir?” Draco asked, finally.

“Two more minutes, Mr. Malfoy,” said Snape.

Draco swallowed his questions, and looked around. The street was not a particularly nice one. Most of the residences showed obvious signs of neglect. Though he suspected that this was once an upscale Muggle neighborhood.

The street lights began to wink out, one by one. Draco looked around for attackers, alarmed as the street grew darker and darker, but Snape showed no signs of worry. Dumbledore melted out of the darkness at their side, and Draco had to bite back a shout of surprise.

“Good evening, Severus, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore, cheerfully.

Snape grunted a greeting, and folded his arms across his chest. His wand was held in one hand, and he tapped it impatiently against his arm.

Dumbledore pulled a silver pocket watch from his robes, and peered at the clock face. “Not long now,” he said.

A beat of two, and Draco’s parents appeared on the street before them. They stumbled a bit on the landing, but righted themselves quickly. His mother’s hand was to his father’s cheek, and as she pulled away he saw that she wore a long silver chain with a locket, and was holding it in her hand - a Portkey.

His mother’s face lit with relief when she saw Draco, and she wasted no time gathering him in her arms. It had been a very long time since Draco had allowed such an embrace from his mother, but he was too relieved that his parents were finally safe from harm to want to object.

Over his mother’s shoulder he saw his father’s face transform from confusion to fear and then anger. He quickly drew his wand and leveled it upon Snape and Dumbledore. Snape had his wand pointed at Lucius, ready to duel if necessary. Dumbledore stood by placidly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Narcissa!” Lucius shouted. “What have you done?!”

She ignored him, and instead kissed Draco’s cheek. “My darling boy,” she said. “I am so glad.”

“You’re not angry?” he asked.

“I am relieved,” she said. “This was the right choice, Draco.”

“Severus?” his father said. “Why are you— what in the hell is going on?!”

“This where you choose your side, Lucius,” said Snape. “Life or death?”

“That wasn’t what I agreed to,” Draco protested, stepping around his mother to put himself between her and Snape.

“Your father must make his own choice,” said Snape. “You cannot choose for him.”

“And what makes you think I will choose to side with the Order of the Phoenix, you traitor?” said Lucius.

Draco turned to his father, and was very glad that his mother stood by him. He had not been looking forward to this conversation. His stomach churned as though it were full of live snakes.

“Father, I’ve defected.”

Lucius blinked once, and frowned. “Draco, I believe you are confused.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

“These people have bespelled you, perhaps,” Lucius said. “I cannot believe that my son would—“

“He wanted me to kill Rose,” Draco blurted before his father could say more. “I couldn’t— not again. And if I didn’t, He was going to kill you and Mother.”

Lucius looked at him for a long moment, and another. “We must return before anyone discovers we were missing,” he said, finally.

“I will not,” said Narcissa. “And anyway, it is too late. By now everyone will know that we have gone.”

Lucius closed his eyes and drew in a breath, as if searching for patience. “Why is that, my love?”

“Because the spells will have worn off by now,” said Narcissa. “I’ve spent the past two weeks making magical copies of every sentimental or valuable item in the manor. I shrunk all of the real items, and took the contents of the manor to Gringotts yesterday. The copies will have failed as soon as the Portkey pulled us away. The house will be empty, and they will know the reason as soon as they are unable to find us in our bed chamber.”

“Merlin, Narcissa!” his father said. “They’ll set fire to the house! It’s been the Malfoy seat since the Founders.”

“Lucius, _I’d_ sooner set fire to that house than live in it again after this.”

They glared at each other for a long, tense moment. Then his father exhaled, and dropped his wand hand to his side.

Lucius looked up at the sky, held his hand up as if the heavens could offer some answer as to why he’d been cursed with such a disobedient wife and child. No answer seemed forthcoming, save the distant sounds of Muggles and their blaring, rumbling contraptions. Lucius drew his hand down his face, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed. “Did you at least think to fetch the items under the drawing room floor?”

Narcissa smiled. “Of course, darling.”

Lucius nodded. “Very well. We’ll do this your way for now.” He kissed his wife, and clasped Draco on the shoulder. They exchanged a look that said Draco was not quite out of hot water yet. His father would surely have much more to say when they did not have an audience. Then Lucius turned to Dumbledore and said, “Well? What now? Will you clap myself and my family in irons?”

“In binding charms, perhaps,” said Snape.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, chiding. He turned to Lucius. “Not at all. We would offer you safe harbor, in return for some information.”

“Of course,” said Lucius, sneer returning to his face. “Information.”

“Anything we know about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are yours,” said Narcissa. “I will tell you everything, if you will keep my son safe.” Lucius sighed once more, but Narcissa ignored him.

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, and pulled a slip of parchment from his sleeve. “For now, let us get you settled. Read this, and memorize, please.” He handed the parchment to Draco.

Draco unrolled it and read, _‘The Order of the Phoenix is located at no. 12 Grimmauld Place, London.’_ And before his eyes, the street changed, and a whole building appeared in front of where they were standing. It was a large, dark house in the gothic style, with sharply peaked roofs, many gables, and narrow windows alongside large dark ones, which gazed down upon them like fathomless eyes.

“Ah,” said Narcissa. “Walburga and Orion’s London residence. Of course.”

“You’ve been here before?” said Draco.

“Not since I was a girl,” she said. “It was a dreadful place.”

“It’s worse now,” said Snape.

The group walked up the stairs, and through the front door. It was quite cheerless, Draco thought, for the Headquarters of the side of light. He couldn’t imagine Rose in this place. He huddled with his parents in the foyer, while Snape stalked down a small set of stairs and through a swinging door. Draco briefly saw a kitchen when the door swung open and closed again. Snape returned in a moment with Remus Lupin in tow.

Remus Lupin. Former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, werewolf, and scariest of all, one of Rose’s beloved godfathers. What was a young man supposed to do when he met the godparent of the love of his life when that young man was responsible for said girl lying near death in a hospital? Draco thought the best option would be to run away.

Lupin looked how Draco felt much of the time - tired from sleeping poorly, and worried, from thinking about Rose. There were bags under his eyes, and he carried an air of exhaustion.

“Hello,” he said, smiling blandly. “Welcome. I’ll get you settled in then.”

He started up the staircase, and gestured for them to follow. Draco wondered if they would be put into squalid servant housing, or perhaps be left to bunk all in one bedroom. They walked up two flights of stairs, and down a hallway before coming to a stop before a closed door.

“It’s the master suite,” Lupin explained. “It’s unoccupied, because, well, it was Sirius’s mother’s room, and… anyway. It’s rather nice, all things considered. One of the only rooms the house elf kept up with after she died.”

Lupin pushed the door open, and led them into a cavernous space. There was a wide window that looked out over the garden, and beside the window was a sitting area with two chairs and a settee done in matching dark brocade. There were two doors that led off the room, one to a spacious dressing room, and the other to a bedroom, the bed set up on a raised platform. It was a dark, dreary sort of space, but not terrible, all things considered.

Narcissa peered into the dressing room. “Is there a bed for Draco?”

“Oh, I thought he could take Regulus’s old room,” said Lupin. “No one is using it, and I thought he might like to have his own space. It’s just down the hall.”

Draco could have kissed the man.

Narcissa nodded, reluctantly. She would likely prefer to keep him close, but Draco was not going to turn down having his own bedroom. Away from his parents.

“This will do very well, Mr. Lupin,” said his mother. “I thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, politely. “The kitchen is on the ground floor. You’re welcome to join us for meals. The house elf is called Kreacher. He’s been ordered to assist you, so long as you don’t ask him to do anything, er, questionable.”

“No need for that,” said Lucius, and called, “Dobby?”

Dobby appeared with a crack, looking more harassed and jumpy than usual. Draco wondered if the Death Eaters had tried to question him regarding his missing parents. “Master called Dobby, sir?”

“Dobby, we shall be living here for the present,” said Lucius. “Please see to it that our schedule is kept to, and to restrict your cleaning to these rooms. There is no need to return to Malfoy Manor for the foreseeable future. In fact, I order you not to do so, no matter who may call for you.”

Dobby sagged in relief. “Thank you, Master. Very good. Dobby will see to things.”

“That will be all, Dobby.”

The elf vanished with a crack.

“Right,” said Lupin. “Didn’t think of that.”

“You need not worry, Mr. Lupin,” his mother said. “There is nothing left for us there anymore. We have made our choice.”

Lupin looked at his mother, and then his father, and though Draco could tell that he was dubious, he didn’t put up a fuss.

“All right,” he said. “If you two don’t need anything further, I’ll just show Draco where his room is then.”

They closed the door behind them, and Lupin led him down the hall to another door.

“The room once belonged to Regulus. He was Sirius’s brother,” said Lupin.

“Rose told me about him,” Draco offered. “She said he was an arse.”

Lupin nodded, and smiled wryly. “She’s not wrong. But we thought it appropriate, because he was also a Slytherin.” He opened a dark door onto a moderately sized bedroom. Not as grand as the one his parents had been put in, but there was a bed, two windows, a nightstand, a writing desk, and a tall wardrobe. The walls were decorated in green brocade. There was a Slytherin crest in a frame, as well as a Slytherin banner and a Quidditch pennant. Draco liked it, for all the wallpaper was faded and peeling a bit, and nodded.

“It’s good. Thanks,” he said.

“Rose is usually in charge of sorting out the bedrooms,” he said. “But well… I’m sure she would have put you in here.”

Draco couldn’t speak, and wouldn’t have known what to say. He was suddenly very aware that he was with one of Rose’s godparents, and that he was responsible for her being in the hospital. Lupin must hate him.

“I don’t know exactly why Rose had that necklace,” said Lupin, and Draco’s stomach fell to his feet. “I’m willing to bet she wasn’t an innocent bystander, but Sirius isn’t quite as open minded. I’d try to keep out of his way if I were you.”

Draco nodded. Wonderful. Sirius Black wanted to murder him. Lupin made to leave, but Draco couldn’t leave it like that. Rose _adored_ her godparents, and it showed every time she spoke of them. She would hate it if she knew that they were thinking poorly of her. If they were in doubt as to whose fault this was, then Draco had to put it right.

“It wasn’t her fault. It was mine,” he said. “It was my idea, and I convinced her to go along with it. She nearly died because of me.”

Lupin was silent as he considered him.

“She may die yet.”

Draco flinched.

“If you would tell me the whole story, I should like to hear it,” said Lupin.

Draco nodded, and though he was exhausted, he wondered where to start. “I guess it—“

“Tomorrow,” said Lupin. “It can wait.”

:: :: :: ::

Draco was awake with the sun, but wasn’t eager to leave the safety of his room behind, so he dressed and then peered out the window. His room looked out onto the street.

It was very odd that a Black family property should be laid smack in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. Draco watched the Muggles drive their odd automobiles up and down the street. He watched them leave their houses, carrying umbrellas, or bundled up to guard against the misty London morning. There were people walking dogs, and chivvying children into cars. Muggles, Muggles, everywhere, he mused.

Rose, he knew, actually liked the Muggle world. She saw little difference between a Muggle and a magical person. She was likely more comfortable in the Muggle world than she was in the magical one. Odd creature. Just the thought of going out amongst the Muggles made Draco afraid. Whatever Rose thought, they _were_ different. What if the Muggles could tell? He’d grown up on horror stories of the Burning Times. True, so long as a witch or wizard had their wand there was little a Muggle could do - but Draco still didn’t fancy coming up against an angry mob. Muggles _did_ that. Perhaps it had been awhile since anyone had been burned for magic, but Draco still thought it would be a bad idea to test them.

A knock sounded at the door, and Draco’s heart jumped in his chest.

“‘Allo? Draco?” said Fleur, from the other side of the door. “There is breakfast if you are hungry.”

Draco’s stomach gave a growl. He’d been up for hours now, and was starving. He threw open the door to see Fleur, and his parents down the hall. They stood by their bedroom door, and looked as awkward as a Malfoy ever did - which was very little. Still, it was clear none of them were comfortable in this place.

Fleur smiled at him, a brilliant flash of white teeth, and she turned to lead them down the stairs to the kitchen.

It was occupied, unfortunately.

The Weasley’s mother was furiously tossing about bowls and frying pans. Food floated through the air to land in the pans, eggs cracked themselves over bowls, and were whisked with dashes of milk. Worst of all, Sirius Black sat at the kitchen table, his head hanging low, clutching a cup of coffee between his hands. He looked up as Draco and the others entered the kitchen, and groaned.

“Dear Merlin, I can’t handle this today,” he said, and got to his feet. To Draco’s relief, it looked like he was going to leave.

“Sirius Black!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sit down this instant. You haven’t had a proper meal in days, and I intend to feed you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Molly. I’ll get something at home.”

She glared at him, and a pan of bacon banged onto the stove top. Draco flinched.

“Rose wouldn’t thank you for what you are doing to yourself,” she said. “She’d tell you to stop being such an idiot, and to eat some breakfast, and get some sleep. Now sit down.”

He glared back for a moment, furious, and then seemed to wilt. He sank back into his seat, and pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids. “Fine, you win. But that’s the last time you get to invoke Rose to make me behave.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you take proper care of yourself,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You won’t do the girl any favors if you fall ill as well. Do you think she’d thank us if we allowed you to drive yourself into the ground?”

Sirius shook his head, like he couldn’t believe her gall.

“I’m making enough for everyone,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sit down, all of you. Fleur, dear, could you check on the bacon?”

Fleur sniffed, and approached the stove cautiously.

Sirius glared at Draco and his parents, but Lucius took it as some kind of a challenge, and gracefully drew out a chair for his wife, before taking the seat directly across from Black. Draco was grateful to have an excuse to sit so far away from him, and took the chair next to his mother. He kept his eyes resolutely on the table top, and very carefully did not make eye contact with Sirius.

“Malfoy,” said Sirius, after a moment. “Narcissa.”

“Black,” Lucius replied.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Sirius,” she said.

“I’m sure,” said Sirius.

“Has there been any change in your god-daughter’s condition?” his mother inquired.

Sirius’s face darkened. “No. Thank you for your _concern_.” He made it sound as though the idea of a Malfoy showing concern for Rose was a joke, and not a funny one.

“Your daughter means a great deal to my son, Sirius,” said Narcissa. “I would not see her harmed.”

Sirius blew out a long breath. “It would have been nice if your kid had thought about that before he nearly got her killed.”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” said Draco, unable to hold his tongue. But he wasn’t able to say he would never hurt Rose, because this was just the worst of all the times he had done so.

“Well, then you fucked up big time, kid.”

“I’ll thank you not to speak to my son in that manner,” said Lucius.

“If he can nearly kill a girl, he can handle a couple of curse words, Malfoy.”

It seemed for a moment that they would fly across the table, and try to choke the life out of each other.

But Mrs. Weasley appeared with several floating platters and sat them all down with a clatter. “No violence at the breakfast table,” she scolded. She floated plates and cutlery around as well. Fleur appeared with pitchers of beverages on a platter, and set a glass and a coffee cup at every place.

Mrs. Weasley sat on Sirius’s side, and Fleur sat across from Draco.

They passed the platters around, and filled up their plates. Mrs Weasley had made scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast. There was pumpkin juice and coffee. Draco took helpings of everything, and was determined to eat it, no matter how knotted his stomach was in Sirius’s presence.

“What will you do for lessons, Draco?” asked Fleur.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You will want your NEWT’s some day, no?”

“No — yes,” he agreed. Though he didn’t know how likely it was that he would ever be able to get them. He might be in hiding for _years_. That thought lingered in a horrid way, and he thought about years and years of the Dark Lord being in power, and he and his family always hiding from him. He shivered.

“Someone will pass along your ‘omework, of course, but you will need instruction to learn your spells.”

“Right,” said Draco. He couldn’t think about this right now.

“Miss Delacour,” said Lucius, and the whole table turned to look at him. “You are quite a proficient and capable witch, are you not? You were chosen as the Champion from Beaubatons, after all.”

“Oui, Monsieur Malfoy. I am quite capable,” she said, and tossed her hair in a distracting arc. Draco blinked rapidly. Veelas were a menace.

“Perhaps we could retain your services as a tutor for Draco while we are present in this house,” he said. “You would be paid very handsomely.”

Fleur considered him, fork poised in mid-air, and asked, “‘Ow ‘andsomely?”

Lucius quoted a frankly outrageous number of galleons for tutoring services, and she looked thoughtful. Fleur quoted a higher number. Lucius attempted to talk her down, but in the end she fleeced his father out of fifty galleons more a week. Draco was impressed.

“Thank you Monsieur Malfoy. I shall have a very grand wedding now.”

“And perhaps a down payment on a nice cottage,” Lucius murmured, bemused at being out-negotiated.

“Oui,” she said, shameless. “Somewhere on the coast.”

“Not too far away, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley. “What about your job at the bank, Fleur? Can you do both?”

“I only work three days a week at Gringotts,” she said. “That leaves plenty of time for teaching Draco.” She stared into space for a moment, thinking. “I will have to find my old studying guides. We have a much different way of doing things at Beaubatons. You know, we have none of these problems with ghostly professors, and curses on positions. It is much better. More thorough.”

“Right,” said Draco, after a moment. “Thank you, Fleur.”

“Thank _you_ , Draco.”

“Well, this has been _lovely_ ,” said Sirius, rising from the table. “But I’m going back to sit at my kid’s bedside, and hope she doesn’t die in her sleep.”

Draco’s stomach clenched, and he looked away. Shame swept through him once more, and he felt ill with it.

“Oh, really, Sirius,” said Mrs. Weasley, looking distressed at the very thought.

“Give Rose my love,” said Fleur, and waved Sirius away. “Tell her I will visit this afternoon.”

Sirius blinked at her. “Sure thing, Fleur.”

“You’re meant to be resting now, Sirius!” said Mrs. Weasley. “You ought to go home and get some sleep.”

“I’ll sleep in the hospital chair,” he said, and held up his hands to halt any further badgering. “Don’t bother arguing with me, Molly. You’ve gotten me to eat. You’ve done your job.”

“I’m sending Remus to collect you this afternoon. He’ll force you to at least go home to shower!”

“I’m clean!”

“A _real_ shower, Sirius. Not just a cleaning charm.”

Sirius sighed. “Let’s just save this argument for tomorrow morning, okay?”

“If that’s the only time I can get you to eat something substantial!” she retorted.

He growled audibly, and threw Floo Powder into the fire with unnecessary force, calling out, “St. Mungos!” He was gone in a flash of green fire, and Draco relaxed for the first time since he had come into the kitchen. At least Sirius hadn’t actually tried to kill him. Draco would have in his place.

“Draco, would you like to come with me this afternoon to see Rose?” asked Fleur.

“He can’t leave the house,” said Narcissa. “None of us can. It’s not safe.”

Fleur waved her worry away. “We have Polyjuice Potion, and I have Bill’s hair brush. We will turn him into a Weasley for a few hours. No one will know the difference. Bill and I visit Rose quite often.”

“I don’t know, Fleur,” Draco said.

“I think it is important to talk to people who are in stasis spells,” she said. “There are studies that say people dream the whole time they are under. Others recall conversations they heard while under stasis. I would not want her to think she was alone. And I know Rose. She would like to hear you speak to her.”

“I don’t know,” said Draco. “She’s probably pretty mad at me.”

“Then let her be mad,” said Fleur with an elegant shrug. “Let her be furious! Maybe she will heal faster if only so she can wake up to yell at you.” She smiled at him, sad but hopeful. “Besides, it might make you feel better to see that she is still alive.”

Draco couldn’t deny that, and he agreed to go along with her to St. Mungo’s.

:: :: :: ::

Fleur had uncanny timing. She and Draco Flooed in to St Mungos just in time for him to see the backs of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin walking out the front door of the reception room. Draco had been especially anxious at the idea of seeing either of them with Rose lying still in between them, and was relieved that would not be his cosmic punishment today.

He had been Polyjuiced into Bill Weasley, and was wearing his clothing. It was rumpled, soft with wear, and worn thin in places. Draco felt sloppy. Bill’s long hair kept getting in his face, but Fleur wouldn’t give him a tie to hold it back.

Fleur led them into the lift, and up to Rose’s floor. She waved hello to nurses, and before he knew it, before he was ready, she had pushed open a door, and there was Rose.

Fleur walked easily into the room, and said hello to Rose, though she made no sign that she had heard the greeting. Fleur peered at the arrangements of bouquets that were around the room, and began vanishing and then replacing the water in the vases, giving Draco some semblance of privacy. He was pathetically grateful to her for it.

Rose did not look to be in pain. She didn’t look like she was asleep either. Sleeping people look soft, with their limbs in awkward contortions, hair a rumpled mess, and mouths hanging open. Rose looked like she was dead. She looked like someone had arranged her limbs, and her face was a serene, eerily still mask. Her eyes were closed, lashes lying in a heavy black sweep against her cheek. Her mouth was closed, and her lips looked red in her starkly pale face. Even her hair had been brushed, and was smooth, and locks were arrayed artfully on the pillow. One arm was folded, with her hand resting on her stomach, and the other was outstretched on the blankets to the chair beside her bed - as though Sirius Black had been holding it, and hadn’t re-arranged her to her perfect symmetry before he’d left.

Draco shuffled up to the foot of the hospital bed and stared down at her. She did not shift, did not murmur in her sleep, did not sigh, or even seem to be breathing. She was perfectly, awfully still.

His knees felt like they might give out, and that would be horribly embarrassing, so he sat down in the chair beside her. He looked at her outstretched hand - at each perfect finger that curled in toward her palm. He kept his own hands fisted in the pockets of Bill Weasley’s jacket.

Fleur started to hum as she tended to the flower arrangements. She was now vanishing individual flowers that looked like they were wilting.

A knock sounded at the door, and Draco jumped. A nurse poked her head in, and said, “Fleur, we’ve got some more bouquets for Rose at the nurses’ desk. I didn’t want to bother Mr. Black with them. Do you mind?”

“Non!” said Fleur. “You will be fine here?” she said to Draco. He nodded. She smiled at him, and turned back to the nurse. “Have they sent more roses?”

“Five new bouquets just this morning,” the nurse said, ruefully. “But I know of some patients who would like to have flowers.”

“ _Excellent!_ ” said Fleur. “I will be happy to deliver them.”

The door swung shut behind them, and Draco was left alone with Rose.

She was so, so still. Rose was never still. She had the most expressive face of anyone he’d ever met, and was always smiling, laughing, beaming, or glaring.

He remembered what Fleur had said, about patients in stasis who were able to recall what had been said to them while under the spells. But he didn’t know what to say. Hi? Not when he owed her an apology. He would give that to her when he was certain she could hear it.

“I’m not really Bill,” he said, and wanted to kick himself. But still, it wouldn’t do for him to speak to her with Bill Weasley’s voice, and have her wake up thinking that she’d been listening to a Weasley natter on. She’d be more likely to pay attention if she knew it was Draco, right? “I took Polyjuice Potion, so I look like him. Which is only fair, because he’s doing the same thing to me right this moment.”

She didn’t even twitch. He bit his lip, and went on.

“I did what you told me to do. Months ago, I know, but, I did it. You were right. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that. So, they arranged for my parents to be rescued, and now we’re all living in the old Black family house.

“I had breakfast cooked by Weasley’s mum this morning. It’s a wonder he doesn’t weigh a thousand pounds.

“It’s awkward as hell, but we’re safe. So.

“I probably never would have done it if this hadn’t happened to you. But he wanted me to do more, and I couldn’t… I wouldn’t. I won’t do anything that hurts you ever again. I promise, Rose. This is the last time I’ll ever do anything that puts you in danger. …I know that’s shitty. I know I fucked up. I should have listened to you months ago. Years ago. I should have done anything I could to keep you safe.”

He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He took one hand from the pocket of the jacket, and slowly reached out to touch her curled fingers. She was warm. He’d been afraid that she would be as cold as she looked. But she was warm. By contrast his own fingers were chilled. He carefully held her hand in his, and tried to take slow, even breaths. If they came out a bit shaky, and if his throat felt like there was a lump in it, well. No one else was here to know. Rose certainly wouldn’t tell. And she couldn’t see when he wiped his eyes with the edge of Weasley’s sleeve because he didn’t have a handkerchief.

“Please wake up,” he said.

She didn’t.

Fleur left him alone for a good twenty minutes, and was thoughtful enough to knock on the door before she came in, so he at least had the time to turn so she couldn’t see his face. Draco wiped at his eyes again, and tried not to be so embarrassing. Fleur didn’t seem to notice, and slid into the chair beside him. She pulled a copy of Witch Weekly from her large hand bag, and began to read it aloud, giving occasional commentary.

“You will be happy to know that Gilderoy Lockhart has won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award for the seventh time,” she said, reading off the front cover. “Are there no other men who smile in Britain?”

Draco absently stroked his thumb over Rose’s knuckles, and looked over to see Lockhart’s smarmy face beaming up at them from the cover of the magazine.

“Lockhart drove Rose mad,” Draco said. “He taught us in second year. She hated his guts.”

“Then I shall read that article vairy slowly,” said Fleur. “Perhaps that will entice you to get better and wake up, if only to shut me up.”

Draco snorted. “Be sure to tell her how handsome you think he is.”

Fleur tipped her head to one side to consider photo Lockhart, she tipped her head to the other side, and then shrugged elegantly. “He is… all right,” said Fleur. “No match for my Bill, of course.”

Fleur flipped to the interview with Lockhart, and as promised, read slowly for a paragraph or two. She grew so disgusted with it that she gave it up in the middle, and started to read a piece on the season’s ‘hottest hats.’

She read for awhile longer, before she decided it was time to go. She leaned over the bed and kissed Rose’s cheek goodbye. “Until next week, mon ami,” she said. “If you do not wake up soon I am going to fill your lover’s head with many lies about you.”

Draco smirked, and shook his head, but played along. “Really, Fleur? What sorts of things do you want to tell me?”

“Did you know that Rose enjoys it when men dress up in women’s lingerie?”

“I did not know that about her. Do you suppose we could make a stop on the way back to pick a pair of something silky and pink for me?”

“Oui, of course. I know just the place.”

There was no reaction from Rose. Not even a hint of a blush. He hadn’t really expected any of it to work, but still he swallowed a sigh. Draco guided Rose’s hand, and folded her arm so it would lie on top of her other hand, folded on her stomach. Fleur fussed with a lock of her hair on the pillow, until it fell just right, and then they looked at her for a moment.

A wave of sadness, guilt, and despair swept through Draco, and he shuddered. Fleur took his arm, and led him away. The hallway was mercifully devoid of people at that moment. It was quiet in this ward where they were keeping Rose.

“There is a Muggle fairy tale. My sister likes them,” said Fleur, as they waited for the lift to arrive. “Snow White is given a poison apple by her stepmother, the Wicked Queen. She takes a bite, and falls into a deep sleep that looks like death. Her friends are going to bury her, and have made her a glass coffin. She lies inside, looking still and perfect in death. Hair black as night, skin white as snow, lips as red as the red rose. Then the prince comes. He finds his lover lying as though dead. He kisses her goodbye. True Love’s Kiss. She wakes.”

“And they live happily ever after.”

“You know it?”

“No.” But he’d been going to school with Muggleborn kids for years, and he’d inadvertently picked up some things. Like how all Muggle fairy tales end with living happily ever after.

“You don’t want to try it?”

“True Love’s Kiss?” he said. “No. In that scenario, I’m the Wicked Queen, not the prince.”

The lift arrived, and Fleur made a considering noise. “Perhaps we should get Cedric Diggory to give it a try. Or George Weasley. They are both gallant and princely.”

Draco couldn’t help the twinge of anger and jealousy he felt at that, and Fleur saw it on his face. Just the reaction she was hoping to prompt. Draco turned his face away. She latched onto his arm again, and put her chin on his shoulder.

“You may think you are the Wicked Queen, Draco, but I promise you, to Rose? You are the prince.”

“She deserves better.”

“Then be better.”

She kissed his cheek, and the lift doors opened on a chime. The lobby was empty, but for the Welcome Witch, and they were able to approach the Floo without waiting in a line.

“Why are you helping me?” he asked. “You don’t even know me.”

Fleur flicked her hair over her shoulder, and shrugged. “Rose spoke about you often to me. Hermione and Ginny, they don’t like you.” She smiled wryly. “They don’t like me either, so I decided there must be something good about you.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if there’s not?”

“I am never wrong,” she said, arching a haughty eyebrow. “You will learn this about me.”

With that, she tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire and whirled away. Draco stared after her, and hoped that she was right.


	26. Year Six, Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose wakes up in the Twilight Zone.

The first sound Rose heard when she woke up was Sirius singing.

“God rest ye merry hippogriffs,” he sang, voice low. 

There were other sounds too: the steady whoosh of her breathing, her heart beating in her ears, and a tiny tinkling noise somewhere overhead. Everything felt very far away, and her thoughts came slow, like she was drifting through a heavy fog.

As she came back, she started to feel things. Her fingers resting on her stomach. The stiffness in her back and shoulders. Her toes in fluffy socks. Her eyelids felt monstrously heavy, but she had to open them to find that tinkling noise. She had to make it stop. It was annoying, and she was trying to sleep.

She shifted in the bed, which was definitely not her bed, because her bed had never been this uncomfortable. She let out a little whine, because Merlin, she felt like she hadn’t moved in ages. She hurt everywhere.

“Rosie?” said Sirius.

She frowned. “Singing,” she said.

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

“You were singing.”

“I thought that might wake you up.”

“Because you’re so bad at it,” she said. “Flat.”

Sirius snorted. “So sorry, princess.”

Rose finally managed to lift her eyelids. Sirius was sitting close, and he was wearing an abomination of a sweater. It was a knobby collection of grays in differing tints. The effect was hideous.

“Dear god, what are you wearing?”

“Weasley sweater,” he said. “Don’t worry, Molly made you one too.”

“Noo,” said Rose. Anything but a Molly Weasley original. The woman meant well, but she had the most horrible eye for color. “She hates me. Why would she make me a sweater?” Molly Weasley only made sweaters for people she liked, and ever since Rose had broken up with George, Rose was emphatically _not_ on that list.

“She’s changed her tune,” said Sirius. “That’ll happen when a person nearly dies.”

“Who nearly died?” said Rose, rolling her head to the side to look at him.

“You did, Rosie.”

Rose frowned at him. “I’m fine. I’m—” she looked around. “I’m in the hospital. Oh. What happened?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping that you could tell me that,” said Sirius. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Rose frowned and thought very hard. Everything from before seemed foggy and far away. “Hogsmeade,” she said, finally. “I was in Hogsmeade, and then… oh.”

She remembered. She remembered everything. “Is Ginny okay?”

“Ginny is fine.”

Sirius had a look on his face that she had never seen before.

“You look… weird.”

“Do I look pissed?” he said. “Because I’m starting to feel pissed. I’ve been through frantic, and worried, and then bargaining. And then there was rage, and helplessness, and then relief because they fucking finally figured out how to break the curse without _killing_ you, and then happiness because they said you’d wake up, and now you’re awake and I can finally be pissed at you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why the hell did you have that necklace?” he asked. “Why would you put yourself in danger like that?”

“I didn’t know… I—”

It really wasn’t fair for her to have to answer questions right now.

“Who sent you to pick it up? Where did you get it from?”

Rose shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!” Sirius roared, and he surged to his feet. Rose flinched. He stalked across the room and back again. “It matters because it almost got you killed, and I want to know that this kind of shit isn’t going to happen again.”

Rose pressed her lips together.

“Not going to talk?” he said.

Rose shook her head.

Sirius gave her a look that was filled with something like disgust. He turned on his heel and left the room.

Rose’s face crumpled as soon as he was gone. She rolled over onto her side with extreme difficulty, and pressed her face into the pillow. She had never made Sirius so mad at her before. It was a horrible feeling. But Merlin knew what he would do if he knew that Draco was responsible. 

Rose wiped her face with the corner of the sheet, and looked around the hospital room. The bed she was lying in was in the middle of the room, half propped up. Over her head was a golden orb, and it was responsible for the tinkling noise. Rose didn’t know what the noise meant, but it hadn’t altered since she woke. It was still steadily pinging. There were chairs near her bed, the closest one Sirius had abandoned, and three others were waiting.

How strange, she thought, probably her friends and family had sat in them and watched her while she slept.

How long had she been unconscious, anyway? Sirius had been singing a Christmas carol, and he was wearing a new Weasley sweater. Was it Christmas already? Had she been unconscious for almost three months?

Sirius never came back. Rose was slowly stretching out her limbs, as much as she could while in bed. She was shocked at how weak she felt. Just these small movements, and she was exhausted. But she resisted, because she didn’t want to fall asleep until she knew exactly what day it was.

The door banged open suddenly, and Rose gave a little shriek. A red haired whirlwind flung itself at Rose, and she found herself being hugged half to death by Ginny.

“I hate you,” said Ginny, half-sobbing into her neck. “I hate you so much. Don’t ever do this to me again. It’s been awful.”

Rose clenched her eyes shut, because she had just finished crying over disappointing Sirius, and Ginny was about to set her off again.

“I’m sorry,” she said instead.

Ginny held her tighter. “It should have been me,” she said. “I was going to touch the necklace, and you were just trying to stop me, and—”

“No!” said Rose. “It’s my fault. All my fault. I shouldn’t have even—”

“No,” said Ginny. “It’s Malfoy’s fault.”

“Gin— How did you know?”

Ginny sighed, and pulled away to wipe her eyes. “A lot happened while you were unconscious,” she said.

“Is Draco okay? He’s not in trouble for this, is he?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d ask after him first. He’s fine. For a certain measure of fine.”

“What do you mean?”

The door banged open again, and Hermione burst through. “Rose!” she said. “You’re really awake! That’s wonderful.” She hugged Rose tightly, and then perched on the edge of her bed.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, scolding, “you just ran off, and left me in the elevator with Lockhart. It was so awkward.”

Ginny shrugged. “Not like he remembers anything anyway.”

Hermione humphed. “Still.”

Hermione was wearing a red sweater, and had a little sprig of holly in her hair. Rose plucked it out, and spun it between her fingers. 

“It’s Christmas,” said Rose. She was sure of the date now. There were too many clues for her to be wrong. “Was I really out that long?”

Hermione nodded. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“You missed a lot,” said Ginny.

“Tell me everything,” said Rose.

Ginny and Hermione didn’t get the opportunity to tell her anything, because Remus arrived. He gave her a very long hug, and looked her over to check she was actually all right.

“I’m very glad you are awake,” he said. He sounded terribly sincere, as though there were oceans of feeling that his stiff upper lip wouldn’t allow him to express.

“Sirius is pretty angry with me, isn’t he?” said Rose.

Remus tipped his head in agreement. “He is. But you know Sirius. He blows hot, and then it’s over.”

“Except for when he holds a grudge for decades,” she said.

Remus acknowledged the point with a small smile. “He usually reserves grudges for Death Eaters and blood purists. I think you two will work it out.”

Rose heaved a sigh. She didn’t know what she would do if they didn’t.

“I brought you some things,” Remus said. He had a bag with him, and from it he produced a change of clothes and, because he knew her well, her makeup bag. 

“I also have a day pass, signed by the Head Healer,” he said. He unrolled a parchment that looked fairly official. “You get to come home for Christmas.”

“That was fast,” said Hermione. She took the parchment from Remus, and started reading it.

“Sirius started pushing for it when it looked like she was going to wake up in time.” Of course he did. Crap. Rose felt terrible for not telling Sirius what happened. She was going to have to tell him absolutely everything, and damn the consequences.

“Should you really be leaving?” said Hermione. “You’ve only just woken up, and you seem quite weak. We could bring Christmas to you.”

“I’m all right, Hermione,” she said. Rose had only woke up an hour ago, and she was already ready to leave. She made grabby hands at her clothes. 

“Not until tomorrow, I’m afraid,” Remus said. “The healer wants to look you over first, and probably ply you with potions. She says if you get a good nights sleep we can get you early tomorrow morning.”

Remus left soon after, saying that he wanted to to talk to Sirius (probably they were going to yell at each other for a bit), and left Ginny and Hermione to keep her company. “I’m sure you three have a lot to talk about,” he said. He hugged Rose again, and said that he would be back in a couple of hours to bring Ginny and Hermione back to Grimmauld Place.

Ginny grabbed a stack of Get Well cards and notes from students at Hogwarts, and they started looking through them. There was also a giant basket filled with candy, and the closet was stuffed with plush teddy bears and other gifts sent from Rose’s adoring public. There was a single vase of daisies on the table, and Ginny told her that they had stopped bringing all the flowers to Rose’s room weeks ago, and instead distributed them amongst the other patients. Ginny assured her that in the beginning her hospital room had looked like a florist shop.

“But one day, when we had so many flowers in here they filled every ledge and table, and we’d resorted to leaving them on the floor, Hermione tripped over the same giant bouquet three times, and then she said, ‘Oh, for goodness sakes!’ and stomped out of the room with it.”

“I didn’t stomp,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“She stomped,” Ginny assured Rose. “And I said, ‘Where the hell are you going with that?’ and followed her down the hall to another room. There was a woman in who’d been hexed and couldn’t stop singing Muggle pop songs. Hermione tromped right in to her room, and said, ‘Hello. You look like you could use some flowers,’ and just left them there. Then Hermione gave all the other flowers away.”

“They’d all sent you roses of some kind,” said Hermione. “Not very original. You’d have rolled your eyes.”

Ginny nodded. “Red ones, yellow ones, those peachy ones, and absolute barrels of pink roses. You would not believe there were that many pink roses in all of Britain,” said Ginny.

“She’s only exaggerating a little bit,” said Hermione. “There were a lot.”

“Since then we only keep bouquets that don’t have roses in them,” said Ginny. “Hence, the daisies.”

Rose blinked at the pair of them. As much as she adored the two of them, she was not quite used to Ginny and Hermione getting on this well. They were both emphatically Rose’s best friends, but usually seemed to rub each other the wrong way. It seemed like that had changed while Rose was sleeping.

“I was going to take the toys down to the children’s wing too,” said Hermione. “But some of them are cute, and I thought you might want to keep them.”

Ginny pulled open the closet, and a couple of teddy bears fell to the floor. The closet was packed floor to ceiling full of plush animals in varying colors and sizes. Rose had never seen so many outside a toy store. Ginny yanked a toy from the middle, and the whole tower started to collapse.

“Oh, no,” said Hermione. “We only just got it closed last time.”

Ginny tossed a pair of plush animals onto the bed, and Rose pulled them into her lap to look them over. They were both quite cute. One was a bear with button eyes, and a little red heart stitched onto his paw. The other was a black cat with white patches.

“Are there any gifts from people I actually know?” she asked.

Ginny snorted. “The twins sent this,” and she pulled a big purple moose from the bottom of the closet. She brought it over for Rose to inspect. It was wearing a lime green vest and matching bowler hat, and had a terrifying smile on its face. Rose patted the moose’s nose, and it let out a loud honking wail.

Rose blinked at it. “You know what, you can take it all down to the children’s wing,” she said. “Especially the moose.”

:: :: :: ::

Remus brought Ginny and Hermione home before dinner, and then came back to sit with Rose for a few hours. She asked him questions about what she had missed, but Remus assured her that she hadn’t missed anything too important, and he didn’t want to give her anything new to worry about. She had only just woken up, and any strain could set back her recovery. So he assured her that everyone was fine, and instead he filled her in on celebrity gossip. She had missed quite a lot.

Celestina Warbeck had gotten divorced and married again in the time Rose slept, this time to the scandalously young lead singer of the Wailing Pixies. He was only just eighteen, and his mother had hunted them down during the honeymoon and dragged the boy home by his ear.

Gwenog Jones announced she would retire from Quidditch, and then two weeks later she signed a deal with the Winbourne Wasps, and all of Holyhead Harpy nation was in an uproar over the betrayal. 

Stubby Boardman (their favorite celebrity, because he bore a startling resemblance to Sirius) was found _in flagrante delicto_ with no less than three prostitutes, only one of which was female, along with several vials of fairy dust. He had entered rehab, and apologized to his fans for, ‘loving sex, drugs, and rock and roll too fucking much, mate.’ The rehab hadn’t worked it seemed, because twenty eight days later he was seen in a nightclub holding a martini with a starlet draped across his lap.

Gilderoy Lockhart had been found wandering naked through a field of heather without any memory of who he was. Locals claimed he arrived in town to deal with a fairy infestation. As far as healers could tell, someone had cast an extremely powerful Obliviation spell on him. They were unable to recover any of his memories, and he seemed unable to create new ones, so Lockhart was going to spend the foreseeable future in the Janus Thickey Ward for Incurable Cases.

Remus left when visiting hours were over, and promised that he would bring her the article with Stubby’s ‘sex, drugs, and rock and roll’ interview tomorrow. 

A nurse came in to tap at the orb hanging over her head, and to give her more pain potions. She turned the lights down when she left, and told Rose to get some sleep.

There must have been a sleeping potion amongst all those pain potions, because Rose started to feel very drowsy in very short order. Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead.

The door creaked open, and she managed to lift her eyelids.

A tall, thin man slipped through the crack in the door, and slid it shut silently behind him. He was wearing a dark pea coat, and a woolen hat was pulled low over his eyes. 

“Security around here sucks,” said Rose, and reached for the orb to call the nurse.

“Wait,” the man said. “It’s me.” He pulled off his hat, and came close enough that Rose could see him properly. The hair on his head was the whitest of blonds, he looked handsome and worried, and Rose thought she should probably punch him in his stupid face.

“Draco,” said Rose. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“I should punch your stupid face.”

He sat on the edge of her bed, worrying the knit hat in his hands. “You wouldn’t be the first.” 

“What are you wearing?”

Draco shrugged. “Eldest Weasley’s stuff. Mine is too noticeable. I snuck out. I had to see you for myself.”

“Wait. What?” Why would Draco be wearing anything that belonged to a Weasley boy, and of where did he have to sneak out? “Why are you wearing Bill’s clothes? What’s going on?”

Draco reached for her hand, and Rose scowled, because she wasn’t sure she wanted him holding her hand just now. She was mad. Right? Merlin, she was tired.

“You should have told me about the necklace,” she said.

Draco nodded. “I should have told you everything.”

“You _are_ going to tell me everything,” she said.

Draco nodded. “Everything. Things are going to be different now,” he said.

Rose snorted.

“I promise,” he swore. “No more Dark Lord, no more Death Eaters, no more anything that puts you in danger.”

Rose frowned. “What?”

“You’ve been asleep for months,” he said. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a caress that made her toes curl. “Things have changed.”

“And you’re not a Death Eater anymore? No more Voldemort?”

“No,” said Draco. “Fuck that guy.”

Rose’s lips quirked. “Fuck what guy?”

Draco rolled his eyes, and swallowed. “V-Voldemort. Fuck that guy.”

Rose smiled. “Wow, look at you, tough guy. Saying the name.”

“Shut up,” he said, amused despite himself. He leaned in close, and brushed his lips over hers. He pushed their foreheads together. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Rose’s eyes had slipped shut at the kiss, but she opened them now. “Wait. Pansy.”

Draco shook his head, and it made Rose’s head rock on her pillow. “It’s been months,” he said again. “Pansy and I were over the day this happened to you.”

Rose sighed. “Okay. Good.”

“What about you?” he asked, and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her neck. “Did you go on any dates while you were unconscious? Any Healers or nurses giving you the eye?”

Rose smiled. “Nope. Free as a bird.”

Draco smiled at her, the warmest, happiest smile she’d ever seen on his face. It was gorgeous. Rose wanted to see it every single day for the rest of forever. 

“Well, look at that,” he said. “It looks like we finally got the timing right.”

“Is that why you came here in the middle of the night? So you could beat the rush of boys coming to my side?” 

“I’ve had that happen to me. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

Rose smiled. “Take off your coat and shoes and stay awhile,” she ordered.

He did, quicker than she would have thought possible, and laid beside her in the little bed. Rose cuddled up next to him with her head on his shoulder.

“You’ll have to tell me everything in the morning,” she said. “They gave me a sleeping potion.” Rose wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t asleep right now, because this was straight out of a daydream.

Draco kissed her head, and held her close with an arm around her shoulders. She grinned into his shirt. If it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.

“It can wait.”

:: :: :: ::

Rose was rudely awakened very early in the morning by a nurse who flipped out when she found Draco in Rose’s hospital bed. Draco got belligerent in return, because of course he did, and the nurse threatened to call the Aurors. She kicked him out, didn’t even give him time to put his shoes on, and hustled him out the door, even though Rose was telling her to stop.

Draco made some hand motions at Rose through the narrow window in the door, but Rose couldn’t interpret them. The nurse grabbed his arm, and dragged him away, out of view.

The nurse came back in after several minutes, all in a lather, and proceeded to give Rose a stern talking to about her health and how important it was that she not over-exert herself during this time, and that her Healers would let her know when it was safe to engage in sexual activity again, but not one moment before!

Rose tried to explain to the nurse that they hadn’t been doing anything like that, but the nurse didn’t believe her.

“A boy as handsome as all that? Do you take me for some kind of fool, sweetie?”

She told Rose to get some sleep, for Merlin’s sake, and left. Rose tried, but it was hard. When would she see Draco again? What the hell was going on? Why had he decided to leave the Death Eaters? Was he able to get his parents out safely? What did Lucius think of this? She had to know! 

Somehow she managed a couple more hours of sleep, and woke up with plenty of time to get ready for Christmas with her family and friends.

Remus, Hermione, and Ginny came in the morning to bring her home. Rose was disappointed, but not surprised that Sirius wasn’t there. Rose was already dressed and ready to leave when they arrived. It had been a struggle to get dressed, and Rose had to lie down for a bit and rest in the middle, but she had managed it on her own. 

A different nurse stuck her in a hovering chair, because she wasn’t allowed to walk through the hospital for some stupid reason, and they waited around a few minutes for the healer to arrive to give the final go ahead. She arrived in a flurry of green robes. She was a small, round woman with short brown curls. The green healer robes quite suited her, actually. She smiled cheerfully down at Rose. 

“I expect you are ready to get out of here for a bit,” she said. Rose nodded. “I do have a few instructions and restrictions. Travel is limited to Side Along Apparition. You are not well enough to Floo, fly a broomstick, or to Apparate on your own.”

“I don’t even know how to Apparate yet,” said Rose.

“Good,” said the healer. “Stay off your feet as much as possible. Plunk yourself in a nice comfy chair and make people come to you. Going up or down stairs will likely be difficult, so have someone float you along. And get yourself back here by nine o’clock at the latest. You need lots of good sleep. I know you’ll want to catch up with what you’ve missed being unconscious, but there’s plenty of time for that. Your body has been through a horrible ordeal, and you’ll need lots of rest.”

Rose agreed to everything, nodded her head when the Healer produced several potion vials that she was to take during the day. She handed off a scroll with dosage information to Remus, which was quickly liberated by Hermione. 

“They have you on quite a bit of pain potion,” Hermione said, sounding alarmed. “Are you in a lot of pain, Rose?”

Rose shook her head. “I’m just sore.”

“You haven’t been without the strong potions yet,” the healer warned. /“The pain is from the months of immobility, and lingering effects of the pain curse,” said the healer./ “It’s a stubborn curse, but the magic will fade away entirely in a few weeks.”

“I thought you’d broken the curse on her?” said Ginny.

“We were able to keep the curse from being _lethal_ ,” said the healer. “While unpleasant, the pain is manageable with potions. Miss Potter is quite lucky, really.”

Rose supposed she was. Though the more they talked about it, the worse the pain got. It was a bone deep ache, and her head was starting to throb. She wasn’t sure if that was the curse, or just a normal headache though.

“That’s all!” said the Healer. “Have a happy Christmas!”

And with that, Remus pushed her hovering chair out into the hallway. Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were in the hallway, and smiled when they saw her.

“Hi, Rose!” said Tonks. “I’m glad you’re better.”

“Thanks,” said Rose. “I guess you two are my bodyguards today?”

“Only down to the Apparition point in the lobby,” said Tonks. “But you can’t be too careful.”

Rose supposed Tonks was right. She wondered what Voldemort had been up to while she was sleeping. She hadn’t asked yet, but no one had said anything, and she doubted she’d been lucky enough to wake up in a world where someone else had taken care of the problem. Pity.

Then they were in the elevator, and down to the lobby. It was early enough that they managed to avoid any members of the press that might have liked to take a photo, and for all Rose knew the wizarding world still thought she was lying unconscious.

“We’ll see you this afternoon at Grimmauld,” said Hermione. She and Ginny were going to side along with the Aurors. Rose would see everyone again for Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place, but for now she was going home with Remus. To face Sirius.

Remus helped her to her feet, and took her arm. With a twist, they were gone, and she was standing on the front steps of the Royal Crescent house.

“Home sweet home,” said Remus. And with a click, the front door opened. The same familiar smell of polished floors greeted her, and she felt like it had been a million years since she had been home. Not just a few months since she had left for the start of the school year.

The floors creaked underfoot, and the smell of the house was warm and familiar. Rose suddenly wanted to cry with how much she had missed being home.

Sirius appeared in the doorway to the living room. His eyes were big and apologetic, and he looked as though he wasn’t sure if Rose would forgive him. He looked like a dog who was hoping for pets, but expected to be kicked.

Rose stumbled across the hall, and collided with his chest. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

His arms came around her back. “I’m sorry, too.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder. “Fighting with you is awful,” she said, though she wasn’t sure he would be able to make it out, as her voice was garbled up in his ugly sweater.

“The worst,” he agreed.

“I’ll tell you everything,” she promised.

“Later,” he said. “It’s Christmas. Let’s have one happy day, all right?”

She nodded.

“Good.”

“I’m glad you two made up,” said Remus. He wore a wry smile. 

“Very smug, that one,” said Sirius. 

“I like him though,” she said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Me too,” said Sirius.

Sirius and Remus smiled at each other. Rose looked between them and wondered if she had missed them finally getting together. If so, she would have to demand a full recounting of what happened. Hopefully someone took pictures.

Sirius caught her looking, and then hauled her off to the kitchen, where the traditional Sunday breakfast of sugary pastries was waiting.

:: :: :: ::

After Rose arrived at Grimmauld Place, it was quite some time before everyone settled down and got tired of hugging her and saying how glad they were that she was awake. But once the Weasleys had their fill of mobbing her with affection, they settled her down in a chair in the largest sitting room. Someone had assembled a tree, complete with fashionable white and red trimmings, and was lit with dozens of softly glowing fairies. The crackling fire in the hearth was cheerful, and from the mantle hung a dozen or more stockings. They were decidedly Weasley holdovers, and didn’t match the rest of the decor at all. Real pine boughs were set with ribbons and fluttering fairies on the mantle. The whole room looked cheerful and elegant, and whoever was responsible for decorating was going to get a compliment. Rose had never seen Grimmauld Place look so welcoming and livable.

“It looks really nice in here,” said Rose. “Who decorated?”

There was a moment where everyone seemed to look at everyone except her, and Rose felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was awful to be the only one out of the loop.

“Kreacher helped,” said Hermione. “And another house elf.”

“Another house elf?” said Rose. “Why is there another house elf?”

“Well,” said Hermione. She looked at Molly Weasley, who shook her head sternly. Rose found Sirius, and gave him pleading Bambi eyes. He gave her a wry look in return.

“We’re not supposed to stress you out,” he said. “Healer’s orders.”

Rose frowned at him. “This situation where you are all keeping something from me is stressing me out.”

Ginny sighed. “She’s not going to freak,” she said. “I told you guys we should have told her yesterday.”

“She had only just woken up,” said Molly.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah, and who was the first person she asked about?” 

“ _You_ were,” said Rose.

Sirius nodded, and Ginny looked pleased. “Aw, thanks, Rose.” Then she shook her head. “But no, who was the first person you asked _me_ about?”

“Draco?” said Rose, and the whole room suddenly felt like all the air had gone out of it. “Draco is here?” Last night he had said something confusing about sneaking out, and wearing clothes that belonged to Bill Weasley, but she had been so tired and doped up on potions that she wondered if she had made that part up. But if he was somehow here, at Grimmauld Place…

Ginny nodded. 

“Why isn’t he here right now?” asked Rose, and everyone looked shifty. “You guys are making him hide upstairs, aren’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, Rose got up from her chair. “Ginny, take me to him right now.”

“Stress,” warned Sirius. “This is what the Healers wanted you to avoid.”

“I would have been just fine if you hadn’t tried to hide things from me. You could have told me at St. Mungo’s.”

Sirius sighed, and then waved his hand. “Fine. Ginny, take her upstairs to see our guests.”

Ginny helped her up the stairs by casting a featherlight charm on Rose, and then leading her up. Rose thought she could have managed them the normal way, but when she began feeling a bit dizzy on the second landing, she realized that there was no way she could climb the stairs on her own. It was unsettling, and she realized just how much danger she had been in. This close call had been closer than most.

Ginny led them to the door of the suite of rooms that belonged to Sirius’s mother, once. She knocked smartly on the door, squaring her shoulders, and a challenging look fell onto her face. They were both startled when the person who answered the door was about three feet shorter than expected. A house elf had answered the door, but not one that Rose had ever met before. This one was clearly younger than Kreacher, and had large green eyes, and huge floppy ears. The house elf was wearing an old pillowcase. 

“Hello,” said Rose. “Is Draco in?”

“Miss,” said the elf. He looked up at Rose, and his wide eyes seemed to go wider. “Oh, Miss is _that_ Miss! Miss is Miss Rose Potter! The Girl Who Lived! Dobby is not seeing Miss for many years!”

“Yes, hi,” said Rose, smiling politely. “It’s nice to meet you Dobby. I don’t think we’ve met before though.”

“Dobby has been seeing Miss Rose Potter, but Miss Rose Potter has not been seeing Dobby. I was to be secret, you see?”

“Yes, hi,” said Draco, coming through the open door and giving Dobby a _look_. “That will be all, Dobby. I think my father needs you.”

“I is keeping Master Draco’s secrets,” the elf said, sullen. Dobby bowed low in Rose’s direction, and popped away. Draco stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

“Hi,” said Rose, smiling blindingly at Draco, delighted that she hadn’t dreamed him up last night. It was all true! No more Dark Lord, no more Death Eaters. Draco was here, in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He was safe. She felt like she had woken up in the twilight zone, where everything was turned on its head, and eventually someone would come along and wake her up, and she would find that the world would go back to being terrible, but still making sense. This world was crazy, but so far she preferred it.

Draco smiled back. “Hi.”

He reached for her and she took his hands, and they smiled at each other. Kissing was imminent. Rose felt like there were magnets in their lips, drawing them together.

“Ugh,” said Ginny. “You two are gross.” The spell was broken, and they both gave her dirty looks.

“How many times have I seen you snog someone?” said Rose, indignant.

“You never saw me _mooning_ at anyone,” said Ginny. “I never said ‘hi’ to anyone the way you said ‘hi’ to him just now.” Ginny said ‘hi’ in a breathy, dazed sort of voice. “Gross.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes, you do. Also,” said Ginny, “since when are you two kissing?”

“Since last night,” said Rose, and added a, “ha ha,” for good measure.

“So,” said Ginny, turning a frown onto Draco. “You snuck out to see her last night?”

Draco shrugged, and refused to comment.

“How did you get out on your own?” said Ginny. 

“I cannot reveal my source.” 

“Who?” she asked, and then rolled her eyes. “Oh, who else could it have been? There’s only one person in this house who can tolerate you, other than her.” She gave Rose a look, like she was disappointed in her taste in men.

“Fleur understands me,” said Draco, haughtily. “We both have a hard time dealing with all the ginger up in this house.”

Ginny scowled, and pointed at Rose, “Be good.” Then she pointed at Draco and said, “If she gets tired make her sit down.” She waited until Draco nodded, then turned away, and flounced off down the stairs. 

Alone at last, Rose went up on her toes to kiss Draco’s mouth. He gave an appreciative hum, and held her around the waist.

“You made friends with Fleur?” she asked.

Draco nodded. “She’s… well, not nice, but we get along. And I’m not spoiled for choice around here. Fleur is kind to us.”

“Your parents are here?”

Draco nodded, and gestured at the closed door of the suite. “It’s temporary, thank Merlin, or it’s supposed to be. The Order is supposedly working on getting an untraceable Portkey to take my parents out of the country, once they’ve drained them of every drop of information they have in their heads about the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Mother is reluctant to leave, but Father can’t wait to be gone. He despises it here.”

“He doesn’t want to go back, does he?” asked Rose.

Draco shook his head, and shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s still angry.” 

“What did Voldemort do? Did he retaliate?”

Draco nodded. “He’s been making Father’s Dark Mark burn. He won’t stop calling, and it just gets more painful the longer Father doesn’t respond to the summons. It’s not helping his mood any.”

“But he won’t go, right?”

Draco shook his head. “Of course not. Father knows that the Dark Lord will kill him on sight. We Malfoy’s have better self preservation instincts than that.”

Rose was glad. She wouldn’t want Draco’s father to die, no matter who he was.

“Why don’t you all come down to celebrate with us?”

Draco snorted. “We were not invited to the celebration downstairs.”

“You’re living here, I don’t think you need an invitation to come downstairs.”

“Trust me,” said Draco. “It’s better we have a Malfoy family Christmas up here. My father and Weasley’s father have gotten into a few fights.”

“Fights?”

“As in muggle fist fights.”

“Seriously?”

“Mother was furious.” Draco grinned a little. “I’d never seen her lay into him like that before.”

“Maybe I could come to your Christmas for awhile?” said Rose.

“Probably not a good idea,” said Draco. “Father has been in a mood all day, and he’s liable to take it out on you.”

“Why?”

“Because as he sees it, you’ve bewitched me and as such, it’s your fault he’s now living in this house. Like some kind of _refugee_.” He said the word with a kind of snobbish horror, imitating Lucius Malfoy perfectly. Rose wondered if she should feel a little guilty, but she didn’t. Not at all. Not if it meant that Draco was here with her, and finally safe.

Draco kissed her. “He is right about one thing: you _have_ bewitched me.”

“Sap,” accused Rose, struggling not to smile.

Draco nodded, smirking, and then kissed her very, very thoroughly. 

:: :: :: ::

It wasn’t nearly long enough before their separate Christmas celebrations pulled them apart. The house elf, Dobby, came to call Draco back in, and Ginny returned as they were kissing goodbye. (Could Rose help that it took minutes upon minutes to accomplish this feat?) Ginny rolled her eyes at them, and dragged Rose off. Rose only went because Ginny said that Sirius had wanted to come fetch her, and if she took much longer in kissing Draco he would lose what little patience he had managed to muster up, and honestly this was a better option. 

Ginny floated her down the staircase, and didn’t let her down until she was perched in a very cushy chair in the parlor next to the Christmas tree. A glass of hot cider was placed her her hand, and a pile of presents was laid at her feet. Ginny sat on the floor beside her, and tore into her own present pile with gusto and cries of delight. Rose looked around at her family, all chattering, laughing, and throwing wrapping paper balls at each other, and sticking bows to their heads. The wonderful bunch of idiots.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rose Potter - Girl in the War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738086) by [Ayahne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayahne/pseuds/Ayahne)




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